The Kitten and the Wolf
by LoorTheDarkElf
Summary: Di'kana joins the Companions, seeking a path besides being the Dragonborn so long as it is one of her own choosing. Along the way she will find kinship with fellow warriors, as well as the Companion's more feral secret. Female Khajiit DragonbornxFarkas, rated M for later chapters.
1. The Wrong Way to Say Hello

**The Kitten and the Wolf  
****Chapter One-The Wrong Way to Say Hello**

Di'kana remembered the day she came to Whiterun as if it were yesterday, though it was indeed many months ago.

It had been gloomy the day she had marched up the road from Riverwood, moving as fast as she could with her bow drawn just in case she ran afoul of wolves or otherwise. She'd survived Helgen, and been asked to tell the Jarl of Whiterun that there was a dragon to worry about... perhaps more than one. It had just began to rain on her as the road pitched downwards along the slope, the falls thundering down next to her and Whiterun appearing in the distance upon it's rocky perch. She was thankful to see it; it was too cold for her Khajiit blood to find any joy in being outside, and her exposed tail was sure to get sodden and freeze in the wind if she stayed out in the rain. With the city in sight as well as guards wearing Whiterun's brand on their shields, she saw fit to put her weapon away and begin a brisk pace for the last leg of this journey.

The walk seemed longer for the rain and the gusting wind. Despite her heavy armor she began alternating between sprinting and walking, only slowing down long enough to get her breath back before digging in again. Thinking over the noise of her armor, she had to wonder what she would do after she'd met with the Jarl. There was no getting out of Skyrim right now, and sadly that's where her family was. She'd ended up in Helgen because she'd gotten separated from them and taken the wrong road in her haste to catch up with them and the rest of the caravan she'd grown up with. The road she'd rushed down, clutching the mountain flowers she'd stopped to gather in the first place, had led her into an ambush on the border that had been waiting for Ulfric Stormcloak. It was unbelievable luck that she, and many others, had escaped execution that day. Perchance not so lucky that it was thanks to a dragon, but she could still boast that her head was attached to her shoulders. She wasn't going to argue. After a week of doing odd jobs in Riverwood, including tracking down some thieves and solving a dispute of lovers, she had decided to move on to Whiterun and do as she'd promised.

She only wished she'd picked a less wet day to travel. She should have smelt the rain on the air and waited one more day. She would have avoided the rain, and the unfortunate accident that happened that day.

Sadly, neither had been avoided, and the accident still haunted her.

Walking and panting for breath, she had come up to the stretch of road that was bordered by farms on either side. It must have been the final stretch; up ahead the road branched and a path to the right led up the mount that the city was built upon. Her nose, though dampened by the rain, could pick up the smell of a stable on the wind. Horses were generally kept close at hand; she was almost there. Getting her breath back and ready to push again, she was about to cut through someone's land to shorten the path when she saw something out of the corner of her eye.

At the other farm, on the left side of the road, there was a fight taking place. Three people, and one giant. The shock of seeing such a creature almost made her jump, but her reaction was instant. Three on one against a giant still wasn't fair odds. She started running, but not towards the city. No, she dashed to join this fight, drawing an ancient Nord battle ax from her back and announcing her presence with a yell. Leaping into the fray, her first swing was an excellent one. Her weapon sank into the giant's leg from behind, those who were already fighting it keeping it's attention faced forward and inflicting plenty of damage on their own.

In her enthusiasm for battle, she yanked her blade free and kept the momentum going by swinging in the opposite direction, turning in a small circle to chop mightily at nearly the same place, just from a different angle.

This had been her accident; her mistake. The fight had been done at the moment of her first swing; she'd actually delivered the killing blow to the already bleeding and tired giant. At her first strike it had begun to collapse without her notice.

By the time she completed her second swing, the giant's face was in the muddy ground. Her ax, on the other hand, had found another target that Di'kana had not intended.

She'd struck one of the people who had originally been fighting the giant. The force of her blow was enough to cut into his armor, knocking him down for a moment. She felt her own knees go weak with the shock of hitting someone she hadn't meant to, an apology coming to mind as her hands automatically yanked the weapon back and to her chest.

Another one of the warriors, a woman with a bow, shouted as the hit connected. "Farkas!" Was her cry of shock; likely the name of the man Di'kana had just hit. Then, without a heartbeat's worth of hesitation, she turned her attention upon Di'kana. "You never shoulda come here..." She said with venom, knocking an arrow and drawing back.

"I-I..." Di'kana stuttered the first words she'd said to anyone for days, putting away her weapon to show that she didn't want to fight. She hadn't meant to hit him; it had been an accident! "This one apologizes..."

"I'll kill you, cat!" The man who'd been struck, Farkas, was on his feet again with a two handed sword flying out for a strike.

Di'kana, before she'd been separated from her family and caravan, had been training as a Khajiit warrior. The first day she'd taken up a sword, she'd been taught two things by her master. One was that any opportunity in battle was a fair one; there was no such thing as a dirty trick when survival was concerned. The other was one she remembered in that moment; there is no shame in escape, particularly if it is a clean one.

She turned and ran, discarding armor as she went to lighten the load in her panic. She'd no plan to fight them, but she knew her greatest advantage would be impossible to use in all of the heavy and noisy things she wore to protect herself. Her helm had gone first, bracers following and quick fingers and talons slicing through straps to get her chest piece off. She didn't care that she had nothing but a rough tunic under it, and that _all _of her fur was going to get wet now. She cared about avoiding a fight. Many pounds lighter she sprinted for the path that would lead her up to the front gates of Whiterun, somehow managing out of her boots along the way.

Sure that she had left the sight of her pursuers, for they had run after her, she searched for a shadow. A hiding place. Walls rose up around her, leading up to the grand wooden doors that would lead into the city... though two guards had stood before it, looking unwelcoming. Making a sharp turn to the right she found wooden steps that led up to the top of the outer wall. She had taken them up, couched down, and done her best to pretend she wasn't there. From her position she was able to peek down to the path she'd just been on and found those who were chasing her. They were heading right for the doors into the city. Considering the line of sight, her hiding place was pretty poor.

Making a quick decision, she decided to jump down as they passed, pressing to the wall as they went beyond her and she was now behind them. Breathing slowly and silently, her ears were perked to hear anything she could.

"What the...?" The woman asked. "Where did she go? Hey, guard, you see anything?"

"Eh?" Another voice, one of the guards, Di'kana had to assume.

"A Khajiit just ran past here, right?"

"How am I suppose to see anything in this gloom?" The guard asked. "What's wrong, Companions? Was it a thief?"

"Hardly." The woman sounded a little sarcastic, though it also sounded like she was calming down. "Farkas, how bad is it?"

"Pretty good blow, for a cat..." A much rougher voice, though with less anger than last she'd heard it. "I'm alright, Aela... ain't worth runnin' around over."

"Good." A different voice, the other man in the group. "Let's get back then, before you bleed out, pup."

Di'kana still remembered that day, collecting her armor in the rain and putting the muddy pieces of metal back on. She remembered waiting several hours, until the guard shift changed, before attempting to enter the city.

By the time she'd gotten an audience with the Jarl, she'd caught a cold.

-PAGEBREAK-

"Thane?"

Di'kana came back to herself, and her breakfast, and her housecarl, when Lydia gently addressed her by her title. Di'kana sat before the fire in the living room while Lydia had stood up to serve her from the pot of stew hanging over it. Blinking and accepting the bowl, she wondered just how long Lydia had been holding it out before seeing fit to call her mind back to the present. "Sorry." She muttered, leaning her nose over the bowl and finding a smile spreading across her face. Lydia was quite the cook, despite the fact that she likely had a Nord's upbringing. This would have been just the thing back when she had that cold, though the bread at the Bannered Mare had done her well enough that night.

"Is something troubling you?" Lydia asked as she served herself as well, taking another one of the chairs by the fire. It was early, before dawn. Di'kana had hoped that by being up early she'd have more time to muster her courage for what she planned to do, but she only grew more and more conflicted. "You know I'm here for you. I can support you in more ways than keeping your house clean and waving a sword in your name."

"This one _is_ troubled." Di'kana admitted, feeling her ears droop with the thought. She remembered that day so clearly. She hoped the man she'd struck, Farkas, did not. "Today, this one asks to join the Companions."

_To seek out some other path besides being the Dragonborn._

"The Companions!" Lydia repeated with respect and surprise. "No doubt you'd be welcome among them; any warrior is. Why are you worried?"

"An accident when this one came to Whiterun may cause disagreement with some of their members..." Di'kana sighed. "There was an apology sent, but this one does not know how it was received."

Di'kana had apologized in a way that _only_ a merchant's daughter would know. She'd paid a child to deliver a package to the man named Farkas, the child had known who he was, that contained not coin but several precious gems. Coin was noisy, and often taken by delivering hands. Gems, however, felt like rocks when wrapped and could be exchanged for coin. She'd also sent a note of formal apology with it, though she realized after she'd sent the package that it was possible that her intended recipient didn't know how to read.

"What did you do?" Lydia asked, somewhat blunt.

"A swing of an ax went a bit too wild, you could say." Di'kana sighed, shaking her head and testing her stew with her tongue before beginning to drink it down, pausing only now and then to chew up the chunks of meat contained in the broth. As always she was done quickly, getting up before Lydia could offer her a chunk of bread to go with it. There was only so long she could put this off; she would just have to go to Jorrvaskr and see for herself how well she would be received. If Farkas or any of his friends were still upset she would gladly take them in a brawl; the people of Skyrim didn't seem to realize that Khajiit were just as dangerous without their weapons, if not more so. "This one will not stall any longer." She announced, leaving her bowl on the table in the corner of the room and going back upstairs to put on her gear for the day.

Lydia, true to her nature, finished eating just as fast to follow on her Thane's heels. "Do you wish me to come with you, Thane?"

"The Companions are warriors." Di'kana answered as she passed into her room, opening the chest against the wall and pulling out several fine pieces of steel and arranging them on her bed before swapping the gown she slept in for a short tunic over her underclothes. "You come and stand with me, it shows my station... such things do not matter to them. If this one is allowed to join them, it shall be as a kitten at the bottom of the heap. This one goes alone, to show acceptance to that fact."

"You mean so I don't get in the way if and when you have to smash someone's face in." Lydia pointed out, taking the nightgown from Di'kana and proceeding to fold it before the Khajiit girl could just shove it into the chest in a clump. "Clawing your way to the top of the pile, as it is."

Di'kana gave pause, just long enough that Lydia finished with the gown and came to yank the tunic down over her head and help her dress in her armor. "Ah... hehe... Yes, that does sound right..." She didn't deny Lydia as the woman moved quickly to strap on and tighten her armor for her. She used to argue with her housecarl, but learned only days after getting her that it was a futile effort. There were just some things Lydia was going to do, regardless of how her Thane felt about someone else dressing her in the morning.

"Do you require any further grooming this morning, Thane?" Lydia asked as she finished, having done everything from breastplate to boots. The only piece that remained the the furs of Di'kana's bed was her helm and her Orcish warhammer.

"No." Di'kana answered quickly. If she let Lydia pull out the hairbrush she'd be here for another hour. The woman wanted to treat her like a pampered house cat for some reason, and whenever the brush came out the hair on her head was just not enough. No; every exposed bit of fur was up for grooming, and her tail always got special attention. Something about how the gray rings looked when she was properly groomed, or something like that. "That will be all, Lydia. Thank you."

Lydia nodded as Di'kana went to strap on her own weapon; the only piece that Lydia wouldn't touch or even ask to touch. With that secure she took her helm, about to put it on when she heard a soft exclamation from her housecarl.

"Hm?" Di'kana turned to find Lydia kneeling in front of the chest where she kept her clothes. She had left the gown on top after she had folded it, and now opened the chest to put the flimsy garment away. Something she'd seen inside had caught her interest though, causing her to reach in and lift the object in question out.

"An amulet of Mara?" Lydia asked, looking up at her Thane. "Why do you have this? Thinking about looking for a partner?"

"This one did some errands for the temple." Di'kana said simply with a shrug. "They gave me that in return. I am... young to be seeking courtship, but saw fit to save it until I am ready."

"You shouldn't let age hold you back." Lydia cautioned. "I don't know how things were for you before, what you were taught with your own kind... but you're living the life of a Nord warrior now. Fighting glorious battle and gaining titles, slaying dragons, traveling... such a life tends to get cut short without warning." Lydia held the amulet out. "Maybe you should just keep it with you. Wear it when you feel ready, but keep it with you to remind yourself... life is short."

Di'kana didn't take it right away, feeling the urge to refuse. She _knew_ life was short. She'd nearly lost hers on the headsman's block. The fact that she was still alive, every second she still had, was a gift from the gods. That life was _hers._ She didn't have to share it with anyone, and she didn't really want anyone asking her to.

Still... the way Lydia was looking at her... She got the feeling saying no wouldn't have done her much good.

"Very short." She agreed while taking the amulet, putting it on and tucking it under armor. It was impossible to see it that way; no one would even notice it. "Are you... interested?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" Lydia asked while finally putting away the gown and standing up, wearing a small smile. "I already respect and serve you. Marriage would only be a guarantee that you'd keep me around for years to come to continue taking care of you and basking in your glory. In those years, love would just come naturally, wouldn't it?" That smile grew a little. "Plus... oh, you're gonna hate me for saying this, but you really _are_ adorable, like a little kitten."

"This _kitten_ will crack your skull open if you keep talking that nonsense." Di'kana responded dryly, sliding her helm over her face and suppressing the shudder she always got as her ears were folded down against her head. "Warrior first, Khajiit second."

"O-of course..." Lydia looked taken aback by Di'kana's sudden threat, pink spreading over her cheeks as she looked down. "Will you be going now, Thane?"

"Yes." Di'kana turned, her tail raising slightly to make sure it was fitted properly into the groove at the base of her back plate. As always, Lydia had placed it high enough that it would move freely. "This one will return as soon as possible."

"My Thane?" Lydia asked, a sad tremble in her voice. Di'kana stopped, looking back again as she felt a flush go through her; had she done something wrong?

"Need something?" She asked, since Lydia didn't go on right away.

"I know you're... not ready yet, but if you were... would you be interested in me?"

Ah, Lydia had feared she'd been flatly rejected for her comment. Di'kana considered the idea carefully before answering. "You care for me and mind my home. You cook, clean, and raise a blade whenever I ask you to... you are a wonderful woman, Lydia... and though as a kit I may have dreamed of more passionate things, I can say I could see you as a beloved wife. Perhaps even mine, but now is not that time."

"Passionate...?" Lydia sounded both relieved and confused.

"Khajiit are renowned lovers." Di'kana chuckled as she moved again, descending the stairs. "Life is short; why wait for marriage when you can seduce many playthings and choose one later after you've tasted all the fruits? … Or so my swordsmaster used to say."

Di'kana left Lydia standing at the top the the stairs, speechless and crimson at the thought.

* * *

**The Author's Corner**

Hello fanfiction! Loor here, and branching into yet another fandom that's outside my norm. Anyway, this little venture is actually going along with a set of rules. See, over on DeviantArt I'm holding a Fanfiction Contest to wit the rules are you play the game for so many quests writing down EVERYTHING you do and EVERYTHING that happens to you on your journey. No fast travel, and remember to eat and sleep every now and then like a normal human being would. Then, after taking all these notes, you write a story using them at your guideline. The focus of this little contest was character building, world building, and travel writing.

Obviously since I'm holding and judging the contest I cannot enter it myself, but I wanted to try and play by my own rules to see what I could learn from it. So far, I've learned that accidents made early in the game can turn into funny little coincidences. Yeah, the encounter with the giant? I did actually hit Farkas. Total accident. I don't actually remember if there was another Companion there besides Farkas and Aela, but my brain told me three people were chasing me when that happened so three it is.

ANYWAY, following the rules of my own contest, my notes will be posted at the bottom of the last chapter for all to see what I had to work with and how much I improved.

And BTW, if you happen to also be a DeviantArt user the deadline for the contest is March 15th. I am LoorTheDarkElf over on DA and the journal where I talk about this is entitled the Skyrim Fanfiction Contest Masterpost. If you've got the time to give it a go, please do join in!

**Legal Stuff: I do not own Skyrim, I am not making a profit off of this work of fiction. It is for entertainment value only. Di'kana, though created within the construct of Skyrim, is of my creation and thus belongs to me. Do not steal. Do not use without permission.**

Happy reading!

-Loor


	2. The Doghouse

** The Kitten and the Wolf  
****Chapter Two-The Doghouse **

Jorrvaskr was alive with energy, despite the early hour. Di'kana had noticed such in passing many times that the mead hall never seemed to sleep. Regardless to the day or time there was always the glow of a fire emanating from the place, always at least two voices echoing through the walls. Often more. Lively was certainly one word for it, but the idea that came to her mind was that of a restless sleep. Jorrvaskr was a place that didn't seem to know how to sleep soundly, or at all.

Now she approached the doors of the long building, ears struggling under her helm in their natural twitch forward when she detected sound. Many voices, all of them shouting. Still unsure if she was allowed to simply enter this place uninvited, she decided hesitation was not the answer today. With a pull the door opened, and she let herself in.

Within there was a cacophony of voices as two people, a Dunmer man and a Nord woman, threw blows at each other within a circle of on-lookers. Di'kana scanned the scene quickly, listening to shouts of encouragement and well as heckling from the spectators as the Nord woman struck hard, knocking the Dark Elf back on his rump and leaving him scrambling to get back on his feet and back into the fight.

At first Di'kana saw no one familiar, but on the far side of the room she recognized two people from frantic memory; the man she had struck and the woman who had been with him. Farkas and Aela, if she remembered correctly. She wanted to duck her head, but silently reminded herself that as long as she wore her steel helm her face was covered. It was actually hard to tell she was Khajiit until she turned her back and put her tail on display, which was not an action she planned on taking any time soon. Instead she continued her scanning to try and find someone who looked like they were in charge. She'd wait until the fight was over, of course, but she needed to ask someone how exactly one joined the Companions.

The Nord woman, Di'kana had been led to believe her name was Njada by the crowd, was powering through the fight with ruthless confidence. It didn't take long before the Dunmer was on the ground again, this time in surrender. As soon as the fight was over the group dispersed, the circle breaking apart and everyone returning to the long tables around the fire pit in the middle of the room. Apparently this squabble had occurred during everyone's breakfast. Once again looking around for someone who carried the air of authority, she stopped a man that was about to pass by her. He was balding, the hair remaining on his head left long and tamed back into a low tail, with a hard face like that of a battle worn watchdog. "Excuse me," She said after reaching out to tap him on the shoulder and get attention in the still noisy room. "How does one join the Companions?"

The man came to a grinding halt, looking at her and trying to see what she was hiding under her helm. Usually she would have taken it off in deference to another warrior, but she still feared being recognized and thrown out. It would be just her luck if she'd struck the leader, though Farkas had seemed to hot-headed to be a leader-type.

"You'll want to talk to Kodlak, lass." The man responded after a pause. "He decides who gets in and who doesn't. You'll find him in the basement, room at the very end. Impossible to miss; the door's always open. Stairs are over there, under those mounted fragments on the wall." With that the man pointed the way, making her look up again. "Though one might wonder what one of your kind wants with the Companions."

"Khajiit can also be grand warriors." She responded shortly, wondering if he'd gotten a glance at her tail without her noticing. It looked like he'd only studied her face, which was obscured and shadowed by metal. "This is a place for warriors to come together, no?"

"That it is, kit," The man actually chuckled now, giving her a pat on the shoulder before moving on. "Good luck, though. We don't let just anyone with a blade in."

She felt her ears trying to move under her helm again; to lay flat against her head as her lips pressed together into a pout. _Kit? _Really? Was she really that small? Before the only ones who still called her kitten were her parents, and it always pleased her when they did. Now the idea of another one of these warriors, or perhaps many of them, adopting it as a regular nickname made her irritated. Without taking any longer to ponder it she moved for the stairs to the basement. Her steps were quick and exact, removing her helm only after she'd descended into the stairwell and gone beyond the door at the bottom.

The area below Jorrvaskr was another long space, this time with many doorways leading off to other rooms. There was much less activity here, with only a few milling about and one old woman moving with purpose. With her helm tucked under her arm, Di'kana moved for the room at the very end with the open door, just as the man upstairs had told her. She could see inside it before she got there; two men were within, both seated at a table tucked into the back corner. As she approached she saw they were clearly in the middle of a conversation, and chose to stand outside the room and wait. Rudeness would get her nowhere today.

Standing outside, with her helm finally off and her ears free to move as they would, she caught a few words that soon had her interested enough to be eavesdropping.

"...but I still feel the call of the blood." One man, the younger of the two, said with exhaustion in his voice.

The elder spoke with the kindness of a grandfather, trying to sooth the younger one. "We all do. It is our burden to bear, but we can overcome."

"You have my brother and I, obviously, but I don't know if the rest will go along quite so easily."

"Leave that to me." The elder assured, ending the conversation with what Di'kana could imagine was nothing less than an encouraging smile. As she rounded the corner to enter the room, she had no doubt that the old man was Kodlak. His hair, though plentiful, was nearly white with age. Dark tattoos swirled on his face, and his eyes were burning fierce things behind his kind visage. He wore steel armor that had the look of something both effective and decorative, with several wolf motifs etched or embossed upon the metal. The man who sat with him was dressed in kind, though much younger with dark hair. Di'kana actually felt as if she'd seen him before... and quickly realized he looked a great deal like Farkas. The difference was that his hair was shorter and a bit more tame. That and he wore a calmer demeanor.

They both looked at her as she entered, and the man whom she assumed was Kodlak addressed her. "A stranger comes to our hall." He said, both his stare and the gaze of the younger man putting pressure on her to speak.

"This one wishes to join the Companions." She said, trying not to let that pressure make her voice shake.

"Would you now?" The older man, Kodlack, asked with a small and sly smile. "Here, let me look at you..." With that he turned in his chair and offered his hands up. Not exactly sure what he wanted, Di'kana bent forward and soon found his work-worn hands holding the sides of her face, bringing her head down until he was nearly nose-to-nose with her. His eyes, incredible pools of unfathomable energy, probed into hers as if he expected to see the essence of her very being. In that moment, she believed he could.

She didn't deny him, staring back and trying to match the ferocity of his gaze. Her father had always told her she had eyes like blue steel, that could cut through someone if she looked at them the right way. She hoped that was the look she gave Kodlak; one that showed her determination to be a warrior.

"Hm..." Kodlak released her after a few moments, letting her stand straight again. "Yes, perhaps... A certain strength of spirit..."

"Master, you're not thinking of accepting her?" The younger man asked.

"I am no one's master." Kodlak reproached. "And last I checked we had some empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire in their hearts."

"Apologies, but perhaps this isn't the time. I've never even heard of this outsider."

"You didn't bother with this one's name." Di'kana couldn't help it. She _did _have a title in this town, and it was because she'd slain a dragon. Surely they'd heard about that? "Di'kana was made Thane by your Jarl."

"A political title, _cat._ No warrior's name has reached my ears yet."

"Sometimes the famous come to us." Kodlak said, cutting the argument short. "Sometimes men and women come to us to seek their fame. It makes no difference. What matters is their heart."

"And their arm." The younger man pointed out, dryly.

"Of course." Kodlak agreed, turning back to Di'kana. "How are you in battle, kit?"

She found herself growing stiff as he called her that. She actually preferred 'cat' to 'kit.' Still, she kept that to herself and answered. "I am able."

"That may be so." Kodlak gestured across the table to the man sitting with him. "This is Vilkas. He will test your arm. Vilkas, take her out to the yard and see what she can do."

"Aye..." Vilkas responded, sounding less than enthused.

* * *

The yard was simply a space behind Jorrvaskr with a few practice dummies and a lot of room for swinging. There was a porch of sorts with several tables, all stocked with food. It seemed pretty much every available surface was occupied by food or drink in this place. Di'kana saw fit to put her helm down on one of the chairs on their way to the yard, seeing as she'd just walked through the main building with her face exposed. She already had her foot in the door; if someone was going to try and toss her out now they would have to prove her unworthy.

"You know, one of the things I do have is a good memory." Vilkas said as they descended the steps off of the patio to the dirt of the yard. "Most Khajiit look the same to me, but it's pretty tough to forget a face that laid up your brother for a few weeks with an ax wound." He stopped a few paces out, turning to look back at her with his arms crossed over his chest. "Granted, we got your pretty little present after the fact. That was quite a swing for an accident."

She wasn't sure how to react, following him down onto the yard and feeling her ears drop again. She knew there'd been a third person who had chased her, but she hadn't gotten a good look at him. Now she knew; the third person had been Vilkas, Farkas's brother. Looking at him, they could have been twins. "They were fighting a giant. This one wanted to help."

"You're pretty brave to show your face around here after that." Vilkas chuckled at her as she hung her head like a guilty kit. "Honestly, after everyone calmed down and Farkas healed up it wasn't such a big deal anymore... not to mention those baubles you sent us fetched a nice price at market. They weren't stolen, were they?"

"Does taking from bandits count?" Di'kana asked, lifting her head and finding herself glaring. Could a Khajiit go nowhere without being accused of being a thief? "If so, yes for all of them besides the ruby. I mined that one."

"Easy!" Vilkas was clearly teasing her now, wearing a smirk. "C'mon kit, let's do this. Just a few swings at me so I can see your form. Don't worry about me, I can take it. Let's just hope you've learned a little more control in the time you've been avoiding us, eh?"

Di'kana growled faintly as she drew her warhammer from her back, the heavy weapon feeling good in her hands. Some people questioned her choices in parallel with her race. Even her swordsmaster had wondered why she enjoyed the feeling of heavy weapons so much, along with heavy armor. The answer was fairly simple; she liked to put her whole body into attacking. The swing of a great sword, warhammer, or ax was something every muscle in her body participated in, and the feeling of unity she experienced with the weapon was something that gave her pure unadulterated joy. It didn't matter that some of the weapons she handled were nearly as big as she was; it only increased her involvement in the fight as she used both her strength and her weight to aim and power each strike. As for her decision to wear heavy armors; if she used two hands for her weapon it was best to have her shield strapped to her body, no?

Under all this metal she was a lithe creature capable of incredible stealth and speed, but she didn't have to use that all the time. Swinging at Vilkas, she found her grove at once and began the complex dance she was growing more and more accustomed to. He was ready for her too, a shield ready to catch each blow and a sword in his other hand simply because he was used to the weight. After a few strikes he called for her to stop, wearing an expression of concealed approval.

"Pretty good arm... Not bad, but next time won't be so easy." He said while he sheathed his own effects. "You just might make it. But for now you're still a whelp to us, Newblood. So you do what we tell you."

_Whelp? _She found herself thinking while returning her warhammer to her back. _What am I now? A dog? _

He drew out his blade once more, presenting it to her handle-first. "This is my sword. Take it up to Eorlund to have it sharpened. And be careful, kit. It's probably worth more than you are."

She nodded slightly while biting her tongue against the dig on her worth. Just what decided that?

Taking the weapon she was reminded of her upbringing with the merchant caravan; how she'd often be asked to sort though wears whenever a customer was looking for something they had stored away while on the road. Busy work like this was something she was used to, and she already knew Eorlund Gray-Mane because she bought supplies from him for her own little experiments into smiting. Without a word she turned and trotted straight for the path up to the Skyforge.

Here was betting this was only the first of a few errands she'd be asked to run today. After all, the sun had only just risen over the walls of Whiterun. There were a lot of hours left in this day.

Her first day with the Companions.

* * *

As Di'kana had expected, Eorlund has an errand for her after she delivered Vilkas's sword for sharpening. As she'd been dreading, it was sending her directly to one of the other people who had been there the day of the accident. One of the more hot-headed ones; Aela. At least it wasn't Farkas himself; she wasn't sure what she'd say to him just yet. Vilkas said everything was alright now, but she felt like wounding was not such an easy crime to forgive. Still, she did as she was told and took the shield Eorlund had been working on for Aela, entering back into Jorrvaskr. Not spying the red-headed woman on the main floor, Di'kana assumed the woman was somewhere below.

The sleeping quarters were cramped and had many shadows. Di'kana's natural instincts told her it would be a good place to attack someone away from prying eyes during the day, when all the other Companions were out.

After wandering and opening doors to several empty rooms, Di'kana eventually found Aela in a chamber that clearly belonged to a hunter, or huntress. She wasn't alone; the balding man whom had pointed Di'kana in the right direction to meet Kodlak was also there.

Aela, eyes wide behind her war-paint, recognized Di'kana at once. "Wha- it's you!"

"Is there a problem, Aela?" The man asked.

"Remember some months ago, when Farkas returned with a chunk taken out of his shoulder?" Aela asked, her eyes only drifting briefly to the man before looking back at Di'kana. "It was this cat who sliced him."

"Ah, the one who sent the pretty apology." The man nodded. "You sure it was _this_ cat? All those Khajiit look the same to me..."

"No doubt about it." Aela nodded. "This is the only cat I've ever seen wearing such weighty armor. Though you got out of it pretty fast when you were on the run from us, didn't you?" Aela's eyes, like Kodlak's, contained an inner fire that was unsettling.

"It was an accident. This one did not want to fight a battle that she didn't mean to start." She spoke quickly, trying to hide her embarrassment and keep her head up. These were warriors; she'd already apologized once. If she apologized again it would only show weakness. She followed her words by holding out her burden; the shield Eorlund had sent her with. "This one has your shield."

"Ah, good." Aela took it with a smile. "I've been waiting for this. But wait... if you're running errands around Jorrvaskr... _you're_ the Newblood?" There was a moment when it looked as if Aela's disbelief would turn to anger, but instead she laughed. "Oh, that's rich! You tried to take Farkas's arm off, no wonder the old man thinks you've got heart!"

"I saw her training in the yard with Vilkas." The man said, as if to add confirmation that she was indeed the Newblood.

"Ah, yes." Aela was still snickering. "I heard you gave him quite a trashing. Had to give the other brother a go too, huh?"

"Don't let Vilkas catch you saying that." The man warned, though he was wearing a lopsided smirk as well.

"Do you think you could handle Vilkas in a real fight?" Aela asked Di'kana, eyes sparkling with mischief as well as ferocious energy.

"This one kills quickly; an extra blow to ensure death." Di'kana answered, pushing herself to appear stronger. She needed to stand taller if she was going to fit in around here.

"Easy, sister." Aela snickered. "No need to think about killing your fellow Companions... plus as I've seen, your extra blow could use some work as far as aiming goes."

Di'kana felt her face warm, though through her fur nothing was betrayed. "Months ago. There was been much practice."

"Let's hope so; I'd hate to be on the wrong end of a wild swing _again." _

That voice. Di'kana felt her spine stiffen as she stood straighter, the fur on her tail rising up as the shock ran through her. Turning slowly, she knew exactly what she was going to see. Of course he'd show up, and just as everyone else was teasing her as well.

Farkas stood behind her, wearing armor that showed his arms instead of protecting them. As a result, she had a clear view of the scar from their last meeting.

"It's been a while." He said, as if he were greeting an old friend. "Welcome to the doghouse, _Kitten." _


	3. Show, Don't Tell

** The Kitten and the Wolf  
****Chapter Three-Show, Don't Tell **

"Skjor and Aela like to tease, but they're good people." Farkas assured Di'kana while leading her away from Aela's room. Aela had told Farkas to show her where the rest of the Newbloods slept, and Farkas had started moving before Di'kana could mention that she already had a home. Maybe the Companions were just used to getting orphans with no place to go. "They challenge us to be our best."

"You do not seem to have anything against teasing either." Di'kana couldn't help sounding a little cold. _Just perfect. _With the look that had been on her face when he had called her Kitten, it was sure to become a common nickname with the others, just to rub her fur the wrong way for kicks.

"I don't get a free shot?" He asked, turning around and walking backwards to face her while talking. "I think you still owe me for this." He said, indicating the scar on his shoulder with a smirk. "Still get a twinge every time I power through someone's guard. Aela wouldn't let me hear the end of it for weeks that I let myself get laid up by some _cat... _But hey, if you do well around here and get accepted by everyone, then it's just another spat between Shield-Siblings. We've all got our nicks here and there from thrashing around with each other."

Di'kana had to study him a moment; the smile he wore looked genuine, but she couldn't help suspicion. He really wasn't mad at her anymore? Granted, it was months ago, but she'd been expecting some kind of opposition. Instead, the others had treated it like some kind of joke.

Like she was already part of the family.

"Vilkas said you tried to pull rank on him." Farkas said, turning around and facing forward again. "You shouldn't do that around here. No one cares if your Thane or even the Jarl. Here it's about respect and honor that you earn from us, not lords. You should remember that... what was your name?"

"D-Di'kana." She answered, finally finding her tongue again. She got the feeling that Farkas usually didn't talk this much, or play tour guide. A pity, she liked the roughness of his voice. It was foreign to her; most Khajiit men had such silky smooth voices, while the women had rough whispers to speak with. To hear a man speak with a voice that was almost abrasive in quality was unfamiliar, and she enjoyed it. "This one is called Di'kana." She reiterated, correcting her stutter.

"Heh... I like Kitten better."

Her ears flattened, not holding back this time when she felt the urge to growl. "This one will give you new scars to go with the old one if you do not stop that."

"Feisty!" He actually laughed, looking over his shoulder at her. "You're gonna be a lot of fun... it's nice to have a fresh face around. It gets boring around here sometimes. I hope we keep you... this can be a rough life."

"Life is rough in many places." She huffed as attempt at intimidation was practically ignored. "This one can keep up."

"Don't tell me, sister. You gotta _show_ us what you're made of it you wanna make it around here." He stopped at a door opposite the one that led back up to the main level, gesturing to it. "These are the general quarters. Just pick a bed and fall in it when you're tired. Tilmo will keep the place clean; she always has... though I don't think Jorrvaskr has ever had a pet cat before. There ain't any odd things we need to know about your kind, is there?"

Another growl rumbled through her chest as her ears pressed flatter to her head, glaring at him as he turned around to face her again. She knew he was joking, teasing her, but she was getting sick of it. So what if she was young? Small? _Khajiit?_ She didn't come here to have all of her differences thrown in her face like this; she came here looking for kinship. Looking for a new path; one that she could choose for herself. She didn't expect it to be easy, but she also didn't expect people to be pushing her around every corner either. Her words had done nothing for her but garner more teasing and prodding. Perchance they thought it was all in good fun, but she was getting rather sick of it.

Words were not the answer. Staring at him, she remembered what she'd seen when she'd first arrived. There had been an open fistfight when she'd entered Jorrvaskr that morning, and no one had gotten in the way. Two warriors, settling things without words.

If that was what it took, she was sure to make herself very clear.

The movement was fast, and she aimed directly for his face with a closed fist. A closed fist was considered mercy among Khajiit; an open hand revealed claws for rending. Her tail raised to balance her as she backed off after the shot connected, giving him a second and some space to think twice. The strike had shocked him, no doubt. There was a split second where he stared with a hand reaching for his now red cheek, a faint print of her gauntlet on his face. Mouth open a fraction, as if to ask why she'd just hit him, closed as his lips formed into a smile and his eyes narrowed.

The next second he responded in kind, throwing himself forward with an unrestrained fist. She took the shot against her breastplate, the shock spreading up through her ribs and forcing her back. Memory and quick wits reminded her there was a table with a bench not far behind her; best not to back up too far or she'd trip right over it. Instead she ducked around him, guarding her face with her forearms. He was a bear of a man, and not very fast as far as she could tell... but there was no doubt he had power. To have half a chance in a fair fight she'd have to wait him out and wear him down.

Well, fair by non-Khajiit standards.

He lashed out again, leaving her to duck and move away once more, side-stepping him and plowing a fist into his side where the back and front of his armor came together, a gap left that made a convenient target. He didn't flinch, only twisting around and swinging one arm at full length to try and clock her up the side of the head. Instead of going tense to try and duck, she relaxed and took the impact. Her neck gave and the force of the blow pushed her head down, his arm moving past it and allowing her to twist downwards and away and once again, throwing her own fist at him as his stance was wide and he was still regaining himself from the sweeping attack. Another hard hit against his face turned his other cheek red, a streak of blood appearing as the edge of her gauntlet tore his skin.

Quick reflexes usually had her striking and pulling back before her opponent knew what happened, but his other hand came up and seized her wrist before she could collect herself for the next bout. Surprise hit, but she wouldn't let him yank her around. Instead she stepped up, opening her free hand and seizing his arm where the skin was exposed. Claws on the tips of her fingers, she raked at him before her grip was secure around his elbow and she turned her back into him, ducking down and bringing him along for a ride to flip over her shoulders. The palm of the hand he'd captured had also flattened on his chest for the move, grabbing the rim of his breastplate for extra leverage and control before she bent forward and allowed her shoulders, and momentum, to do the rest.

He may have been heavy, but she was used to swinging around heavy things.

The impact with the floor caused him to release her, but it didn't seem like he was done. Even better, someone must have seen that a scrap was starting and told the others upstairs; the door to the stairs was open and a small crowd had formed on the steps to watch. Aela and Skjor had also emerged to see what was happening in the main hallway of the living quarters.

"C'mon Farkas, get 'er!"

"What are you waiting for, icebrain? Get up!"

"Don't let her take another chunk outta ya!"

Farkas was back up on his feet pretty quick, and Di'kana was ready, ducking down and springing up to imprint her knuckles on the bottom of his chin as she threw her body into the motion. Unfortunately he'd seen her coming, and managed to twist his head out of the way, giving her another monster blow to the midsection while her feet were still off the ground. The strike knocked the wind out of her as well as sent her flying a few feet, tail between her legs as she landed on her back and went rolling over her own shoulders, sliding some way into the sleeping quarters for the novices. Taking the tumble, she managed to land with her hands and feet on the ground and her tail up and free. He wasn't waiting for her; he was in the doorway, on his way to close the space between them and dish out another one of those powerful strikes.

With a glance she had an idea, and got up to her feet. Leaping upwards she grabbed the upper frame of the doorway and brought her boots crashing against his chest, kicking him back out of the room and sending him to the floor once more. She continued her swing in the doorway, letting go as she reached the end of the forward motion and landing to stand over him, feet to either side of his chest. Kneeling down, she stuck her knees against his arms and grinned down, resting her talons on his neck.

She was panting; she was used to taking her armor off before preforming such acrobatics. On the other hand, the fact that she was wearing armor was the only reason she'd been heavy enough to knock him down just now. She'd take things as they came. Like now; he was breathing hard too, but there was a chance that he still had enough strength to throw her off and continue the fight. She stared down at him, encountering his eyes and finding he, like all the others she'd met so far, had that same unfathomable energy in his eyes. Fire, burning brightly, in a way that could never be put out.

She realized she'd picked a fight with the wrong person; like Jorrvaskr, this was the fire of a person who never slept. This was a man that could keep going until the world ended. The only way she could have kept him down was if she actually ripped his throat out, and even then she questioned if that would really kill him.

He smiled at her. "Not bad... you made your point. Mind getting off of me now?"

She swallowed her breath, going back to her even and controlled rhythm while standing up and off of him, backing off and offering one of her hands to help him back to his feet. "_Not_ pet. _Not _kitten." She stressed as he took it, getting back to his feet as the onlookers dispersed. She got the feeling that people had brawls like this on a pretty regular basis around here. "Warrior first, Khajiit second."

"And you pack a decent punch to boot." He chuckled, wiping the blood from his cheek as he let go of her hand and inspected the arm she scratched up. He touched it and sucked air through his teeth. "Bleedin' pretty good... you gonna leave scars every time we meet up?"

"Only when you ask for it." She assured, wearing a smile now. "So what does this one do now?"

"You can ask me or Aela for work. If you do well and make a bit of a name for yourself, Skjor and Vilkas will have things for you to do. Good luck, and welcome to the Companions."

She snickered, putting a hand over where her ribs were still sore. "Some welcome..."

"Hey, you dish out a punch, I'm gonna throw one back... by the way, if you're looking for something to do, we've gotten a letter about someone needing some muscle right here in Whiterun Hold. I donno what the fight is about, and that's not our business anyway. I just need you to go out there, look tough, and scare this milk drinker into submission." He then smirked at her again. "No more than that. I don't wanna hear about a killin', understand? Now that you warmed up against me, you gotta remember to hold back against the regular folk. They can't take as much."

"This one knows finesse." She answered with a nod. "Consider it handled."

"Lotta regular folks are scared of Khajiit anyway." Farkas chuckled. "Probably won't even have to throw a punch to get the guy to back down, the way you look."

"This one looks scary?" She asked, making a playful pout now. She felt better about the joking now that she'd gotten all the fight out of her system. "Di'kana thought she was cute little kitten."

"To us, yeah. But that black fur of yours is something people don't see every day; something out of the ordinary like that is enough to put regular fools on edge." He waved her off, turning to go deeper into the living quarters, probably to hunt up some bandages for his torn up arm. "Go, and bring honor to yourself and the Companions. Come back when you're done, and we'll have something else for you to do."

She nodded slightly, moving to go back upstairs and leaving Jorrvaskr by the back door. Her helm was still sitting on a chair on the patio, after all.

* * *

"She got another piece of you."

Farkas looked up, blinking to find Aela in the doorway to his room. She leaned against the frame, arms crossed and her hips leaned out with a smile on her face that said she might've been a little proud of the Newblood... though that smile was also conflicted with other, more confusing, feelings. Her eyes, of course, were locked on to where Farkas was now wrapping a bandage around his arm. The cuts hadn't been all that deep, but there was no denying that they bled pretty well. Better to cover it up with a wrap and let it be for a while. "Yeah, so?"

"You both had more fight left in you. Why did you cut it short?"

"I'd rather lose only one chunk at a time, if I can manage it." He responded dryly, finishing with the wrap and tying a knot in the bandage with one hand and his teeth to pull it tight. "Pretty sure if I had kept pushing she woulda started playin' dirty, and some of the others would disrespect her for that... she's got that look, y'know? Someone lost, looking for a place to be. A lot of us were like that. Givin' her a hard time is fun, but I figured she'd have an easier time fittin' in if I let her finish in fair form."

"You're oddly nice, for a brute... didn't know you had the capacity to think that far ahead." Aela snickered, taking her shoulder off of the door frame and standing properly. "I don't like having one of her kind around though... she's part animal already. Makes me wonder if she might be able to sniff us out somehow."

"Pretty sure most cats run when they smell wolves on the air... besides sabers."

"And what if, figuratively speaking, our new kitten _is_ a saber? What if she finds out by listening at keyholes or one of her other senses clues her in? What do you think she'll do?"

"Not sure." He shrugged. "Only met formally today. I say you don't really know a guy till you've traded some blood with him, but I haven't gotten her to bleed just yet... that or if I did it blended into that black coat of hers. If you're so worried about it, what are _you_ gonna do to keep her from finding out?"

"What does any good hunter do?" She asked. "Shut up. Keep my mouth shut at all times, even when I think no one is watching. You should too. Khajiit are naturally sneaky, and I don't trust this one just yet."

"Her race is kinda second priority to her." Farkas sighed, getting up and stretching his arm out. The cuts still stung, but it was no where near the worst thing he'd ever endured. "And it's not like I go telling the world." He approached where she stood in the doorway, gesturing for her to move along. "You make fun of me for not thinking enough, but I think you spend too much time thinking. Makes you paranoid."

"I like being the huntress, not the _hunted. _All I'm trying to say is that we should be careful while she's still new. Particularly, _you_ should be careful. Or do you not find it the least bit odd that both times she's come in contact with the Companions you've ended up with blood on the ground? First an accident, and now a simple brawl? She's painting herself as violent and clumsy. Another 'accident' could mean someone's life."

"She started the fight because she was sick of getting teased." Farkas pointed out, giving Aela a look as she was yet to remove herself from his doorway. "Don't you remember those days, Aela? We all had 'em at one point. Where you're the smallest person in the room and everyone is making jabs at you. Its funny for them, but all you want is to be taken seriously. You just wanna be another one of the guys, being laughed _with_ instead of laughed _at._" His eyes narrowed. "You should sympathize with her. You had to fight for your respect too. Instead you suspect her."

"We all had to fight for our respect and honor." Aela responded without losing any of her fire. "Some of us simply had more to prove. In her case, she has a great deal to prove before I'll be convinced."

"Well, _I'm_ convinced. Now if you're done being paranoid about the new kitten being some sort of assassin hired by the daedra hunters, I'm gonna go out to the yard and do some practice. This shoulder still ain't what it used to be." He once again gestured for her to move, this time more forceful to insist she step out in front of him and let him shut his own door. With a huff she moved, stepping out and only moving a little head of Farkas.

"I don't get how you can forget some things so quickly." She said with a roll of her eyes.

"Forget?" He asked, reaching across to touch the scarred shoulder. "Nah, I didn't forget. I still remember that rainy day like it was yesterday. I just don't think I should hold on to it. It's kinda why I think she'll fit in around here; we had that giant handled and she still charged in to help us out with it. Even if she made a mess, she knew a good battle when she saw one."

"It isn't like a Khajiit to rush into a fight like that..." Aela muttered, holding on to her paranoia. "She's a strange one."

"When you pick up a stray kitten, you never know what you're gonna get." Farkas started walking, Aela moving to stay at least one step ahead of him. "Could be a lazy house cat, could be a feral hunter. We'll just wait and see."

"I won't hesitate if it turns out she's a saber that's still growing into her fangs, Farkas." Aela warned. "Don't tell me I have to worry about you protecting her?"

Farkas rolled his eyes at her, not bothering to verbalize are response. Aela knew fully well that he acted with his heart, not his head. If something nasty happened, he'd do what he thought was right. Aela just had to hope that it wasn't in opposition to what _she_ thought was right. "Just don't go seein' things that ain't there." Was all he said, giving her a shrug to end the conversation.

Aela slowed to let him go, watching him disappear behind the door to the upstairs. With a slight frown she hesitated, then turned to return to her own quarters.

"Stupid man." She muttered.


	4. This One and That One

** The Kitten and the Wolf  
****Chapter Four-This One and That One **

Di'kana had returned to Jorrvaskr feeling particularly pleased with herself. The intimidation job had been almost too easy; the guy had insisted on brawling with her and then only been able to take one punch. Granted, he'd been a farmer with no armor. Still, after a fight that Farkas had practically _thrown_ for her to come out on top she was pleased with herself to have done something with ease. Opening the door and letting herself in with much more comfort than she'd felt earlier that day, she glanced around the main room of the mead hall to find that Farkas was not present.

Aela, however, was. She'd actually been at the door, about to let herself out when Di'kana had come in. The red-headed woman stepped back, letting Di'kana through before catching the door to show her intention to go outside. "Ah, our little Kitten is back from her first job. How'd it go?"

"Easily." Di'kana answered, smiling. A great deal of her tension was gone; another change from how she'd been that morning. The nickname, though she still didn't particularly like it, wasn't something she took so personally anymore. "Where is Farkas? This one must tell him the job is done."

"In the yard, trying to loosen up his shoulder." Aela answered.

Di'kana's ears fell, looking down slightly at the reminder at what she'd done. "Does it bother him so?"

Aela hesitated. She seemed surprised at Di'kana's guilt... why? There was nothing odd about feeling guilty for causing harm to someone, particularly when that harm interfered with their way of life. After a moment the huntress's eyes softened, a smile spreading on her own face. "I don't think so. Farkas will take any excuse in a storm to go and train, and I don't think he realizes whining about his shoulder makes him sound like a babe going on about a skinned knee. If he bothers you about it, just threaten to make the other one match. That'll shut him up." With that she pushed the door the rest of the way open, stepping beyond it. "Good luck on your next job, Kitten!"

Di'kana felt as if something had just happened because of how she openly expressed herself, but she wasn't exactly sure what. Only taking a second to blink at the now closed door, she turned on her heel and went for the doors across the room to go out to the yard. Letting herself through she once again dumped off her helm, which she'd been carrying under her arm, on one of the chairs. She'd put it on for the job Farkas had given her, but she really didn't like wearing the thing. The idea of making a custom helm with holes for her ears had crossed her mind once, but she felt like that was asking for someone to grab them during a fight, or slice them off.

Farkas was exactly where Aela had said he'd be; brandishing a two-handed sword and working over one of the practice dummies with excellent finesse and force. Not exactly sure how to get his attention, Di'kana occupied herself with munching away on a chunk of bread from one of the tables while watching him. She admired the way he moved, able to recognize the unity between his body and the weapon. Like her, he used his own weight to aim and increase the incredible force that could be put down with a heavy weapon, moving often and changing angles. He understood that he couldn't stay in the same place and hack away endlessly, a lesson only experience in battle could teach.

She had to wonder what other scars his armor might have been hiding.

Her ears had pitched forward with her attention, her senses tuning as if she were hunting. Her eyes continued a slow appraisal of his form, both that of his swordsmanship and his body. He was putting all of himself into his practice, as if he were in a real fight. That meant each swing and impact caused his exposed muscles to shift and bulge with power, then slack as he drew back to round and go again from a different stance. He'd worked up a sweat with his effort, the glisten of which only made the picture more pleasing. He may not have realized it, but he let off small sounds as he exerted himself. They were little more than grunts and growls of that deliciously rough voice. Strangely enough, such small noises were even greater candy to her ears than just listening to him talk. Out in the open she was able to scent him without any confusion of the other smells inside Jorrvaskr, the aroma making her mind go straight to something wild, primitive, and powerful.

All in all, she had to consider him quite impressive. Her father would have reproached her for looking at any member of the human races in such a way, but of course that was the same father who had given her a swordsmaster who had taught her that all the races had able-bodied partners among their ranks. Life was too short to be picky, too drab to pass up the pleasures of both looking and touching.

Perchance it was lucky she'd been separated from her family and allowed to roam free. Skyrim was in short supply of her own kind to look at, but that was alright. She was a warrior; partnerships where breeding was impossible were in her favor.

She blinked as she realized what exactly she was thinking about. Where had _that_ come from? She shook her head with violence to clear away such things, looking up just in time to see that Farkas had finally taken a break and stabbed his sword into the ground. He'd looked up at her, but was yet to say anything. Embarrassment ran through her as she realized he probably saw her shaking her head as if she'd meant to banish a demon from her mind. Flustered and panicked, the only thing she could think of was to get straight down to business. "The job is done!" She called out with a little more force than necessary while stepping down off the patio to join him on the yard.

The tip of her tail was twitching; it felt as if she suddenly had too much energy to simply hold still in one place. Was she irritated? No, it was something else...

"Good." Farkas nodded his approval while reaching to a pouch that had been attached to his belt, handing it over. "Here, your pay. Sorry it doesn't come in gemstones, we tend to stick with coin around here."

She took the pouch, feeling the weight. Not bad for an hour's worth of work, if she did say so herself. "This one only sent gems because they are less likely to be taken by sticky fingers looking for coin." She explained while tucking the little bag into her own belt. That reminded her; she had potions to trade at the alchemy shop so she could by new ingredients. Most of her coin these days came from selling her little experiments with mixing herbs together. "Aela said you had more work, yes?"

"Yeah." Farkas nodded. "This one's urgent. We got word that some Falmer have taken up residence in a cave not far from Whiterun. Shimmermist, along the northeast road. You ever deal with those things before?"

Di'kana nodded, suppressing a shudder. "Blind little nasty creatures...with an affection for poison. This one has fought them before, and their pets."

"Then you know what to be ready for." He put on a smile that wanted to encourage her. "Take care of 'em quick, before they do something nasty to the people around. Go in, clear the place out, and come back in one piece." He then paused, the look on his face morphing as something else came to mind. "Oh, right... Skjor was lookin' for you earlier... Guess you should see him first? Though he'll probably send you off to do something else."

"This one will handle the Falmer first." She spoke quickly, and worried she would regret it later. Why was she so eager to face a bunch of those little abominations? "They are dangerous. Skjor and his job will wait."

"You sure?" He asked. "I mean, your choice, but I can get someone else to take care of those things. You aren't required to take every job I toss your way. You don't like it, I can just pass it along to one of the other whelps."

She growled. Was she not being clear enough? She spoke slowly and deliberately to try and weed out her natural accent, forcing herself to momentarily abandon the lingual ticks that came from having the common tongue of the human races as her second language; "_I will do it." _

He blinked at her determination, and then graced her with a smile. "Alright, take it easy sister. Job's yours, now go get it done and hurry back... in one piece, mind you. No one's gonna be happy if you get hurt because you rushed in."

* * *

Lydia had long gotten used to translating her Thane's mood from the most minor of body language. Di'kana didn't always express herself verbally, but like it or not a combination of her stance, expression, and tells from both her ears and her tail made her mood incredibly obvious to the trained eye. Thus, she had known the moment Di'kana had come back to the house that the Khajiit was irritated, despite the fact that she was once again wearing her helm. Her tail had been the tip-off; raised and twitching at the tip, a great deal of the fur standing on end. Sadly, Lydia hadn't gotten the chance to even ask about it. Di'kana had come back to the house to announce that she had a job to do for the Companions, and she desired Lydia's company for the venture. She hadn't left any room for argument, tromping into the house to grab a few things from the alchemy lab and then marching right back towards the door.

Lydia, aware that her Thane would simply leave without her if she didn't make a motion to follow, abandoned her lunch to snatch up her battle gear and fall in step. Questions on the specifics were saved until they were outside of Whiterun's gate and on their way to the road, turning left at the sign post.

It was a lovely sunny day. A good day for travel, though leaving Whiterun at high noon seemed to be a strange time to suddenly up and go. "Where are we headed, Thane?" Lydia asked, trotting to keep up.

"Shimmermist." Di'kana responded shortly. "An infestation of Falmer needs to be taken care of. It is not far; we should return before sundown."

"Eager to please them, huh?" Lydia asked, glancing back at Whiterun. "I take it this morning went well, then?"

"Well enough." She made a strange noise that Lydia was sure to be unique to Khajiit; a sort of rough hum that held the tone of her usual voice, but sounded as if it could turn into a scream or roar of frustration.

"Then what's got you all upset?"

She didn't respond right away. They followed the road that curved around the base of Whiterun's mount, facing north on the low road with the river off to their right and another chain of mountains rising up beyond that. The sun was bright and warm, but the breeze brought a chill that never seemed to leave Skyrim, even in the warmest months. That breeze sent a shudder through Di'kana, the fur on her tail standing up completely before settling down a bit. "This one would like to know... how do most in Skyrim feel about intimacy between the races?"

Of all the things she expected her mistress to say, that had not been on the list. Lydia blanched for a moment as her mind questioned the context behind such a question. It was one of the moments that she was blatantly reminded that her Thane was actually quite young. She looked like any other fully grown Khajiit, albeit one with a small frame, but the truth was she had only just started her adulthood and had no idea what she was doing. Separated from her own kind, her own family, and stuck in Skyrim until the war ended and the Thalmor finally opened the borders again. She'd taken charge of her life like an adult, but it was honestly the worst age to get cut loose from everyone she'd usually ask these awkward questions to.

On the other hand, if she wasn't stuck in Skyrim she probably wouldn't be thinking about it. She'd be with some merchant caravan, eying up members of her own kind.

"Well... uh... Everyone has their own opinion." Lydia had to try, even though she felt blush spreading across her cheeks. She'd never consider herself a prude, but discussing such a topic on the road when anyone could pass by seemed strange to her. It was only that morning that Di'kana had put the idea of multiple lovers into her head. The Khajiit were certainly an interesting race, to say the least. "I-I mean, everyone has their own charm if you look at them the right way... why do you ask?"

That was the important question, wasn't it? This morning Di'kana had all but rolled her eyes at the idea of taking on an intimate partner. Now she was asking about inter-species relationships. Had someone at Jorrvaskr caught her eye?

"This one is..." She paused, looking for the right word. "Curious. The life of the warrior is known to give pleasing definition to all creatures, but this is the first time Di'kana has thought in such a way about someone without fur."

Lydia didn't know what to say. She was good with facts; hard and blunt things that she could say simply and move on. Worse, she felt a faint tug of jealousy over the subject, what with the discussion they'd had that morning. Di'kana _knew_ she was interested, and yet she was speaking openly about this. Granted, she didn't feel a particular sexual attraction towards her Thane. She found Di'kana cute in her feline form and manner, and got an odd pleasure out of caring for her like one would a pampered pet. She liked to ensure she was eating well, and groom her, and nit-pick over her armor and clothes before she went anywhere. One of the first things that came to mind was the question of how exactly one kissed a Khajiit? Or was that something their race didn't do, replacing it with some other show of affection that was considered just as intimate?

She had to stop thinking about that. Di'kana was also at a loss of how to continue the conversation, going silent when she didn't say anything. No, this was her Thane, and her Thane was asking for her help in something. Honestly, she never thought she'd be 'honored' with helping a young Khajiit with her first crush, but reminding herself that it was technically her duty to be there for her got her to stop feeling jealous. "Really?" She asked, moving a little faster to walk at her side instead of trailing behind. "Who is it?"

The twitch to her tail became more violent; a tell of embarrassment as well as irritation.

"Oh divines..." Lydia felt her eyes going wide. Really? "The one you wounded?"

"He is quite pleasing." She muttered. "For not having fur. All of the Companions have something wild about them... but that one..." She shook her head, doubtlessly an effort to sort out her mind. "First coming to Skyrim, this one thought all of you looked very strange. Too tall, too thick, missing pieces, clumsy... but that one seems right the way he is."

"And how does he feel about it?" Lydia saw fit to ask. "Y'know, you being around after hitting him with an ax?"

"Oddly accepting." She shrugged. "Scars are commonly exchanged among the Companions."

"I don't see any on you, yet."

"He tried."

"There was a fight?"

"He asked for it."

"What did he do?"

She made that noise again, her head sagging down in front of her shoulders. "Called this one Kitten. It is becoming common nickname..."

Lydia winced while thinking of how to change the subject. Talking about it didn't seem to be helping, and it was something she'd rather not be discussing. Sadly she was at a complete loss, this issue feeling heavy in the air and reluctant to move. There was no opportunity or disconnect that would allow an easy transition.

Di'kana suddenly stopped, her head twisting around and her hands going for her weapon. The conversation evaporated as she took a stance that was ready for something to attack, and though Lydia saw nothing she instantly copied by drawing her sword and slipping her shield onto her arm. "What?" She asked, looking to her Thane to try and understand what had sent the girl to high-alert. All seemed peaceful; it was just another sunny day on the plains around Whiterun, the farms behind them and the wide open space of the world all around them.

"Listen." Di'kana hissed, her head inclined to the sky. "...wings."

A moment later, from beyond the peaks, a roar rang out that echoed down the slopes of the mountains and barreled down onto the plains. The sound was that of a terrifying creature that showed itself seconds after it's call. Aloft on dark wings, a dragon appeared over the rough skyline. It's path took it soaring over the meadery, veering left and right as if it were scoping out the farms and Whiterun itself. Lydia clutched her sword, staring up and considering switching to her bow. Di'kana could only engage a dragon on the ground, and arrows were a great way to attract it down to their level. Still, she would do nothing until Di'kana told her to.

Her Thane watched the path of the monster intently, drawing in breath as the creature changed course to pass over them. The way she drew in and held her breath was something else Lydia recognized from seeing it multiple times; Di'kana was ready to Shout if need be... but only if the dragon showed any interest in something on the ground. If it didn't attack it was better not to provoke it into doing so.

The dragon rounded in the air, doing a wide circle while roaring again. The moment was tense; on a whim this creature could drop down and possibly rip them to shreds.

After a second circle it's path straightened, picking up height and aiming back into the mountains, vanishing over the peaks.

Di'kana remained tense for several more moments, watching and waiting in case any more signs came. There was silence for a moment, two, three... Di'kana's tail dropped down as she put her warhammer away, the fur slowly smoothing out from it's bottle-brush look. Letting the breath go without Shouting, she drew a new one to speak.

"Let's hurry."

"Yes, Thane." Lydia agreed as her mistress took off, setting a new and even more brisk pace.


	5. Shimmermist

** The Kitten and the Wolf  
****Chapter Five-Shimmermist **

Shimmermist cave was a dark and gloomy place, filled with an abundance of glowing mushrooms that Di'kana reminded herself would be worth harvesting on the way out. The walls and ceiling dripped, and there were several sections of the place that had flooded completely. For most the light of the mushrooms would be too little to see by, but for Di'kana it was more than enough to see as well as if she were in daylight. She and Lydia progressed slowly and carefully, listening for the creatures they were after. Falmer, despite being blind, were tricky and nasty enemies. An example of this was made right at the entrance; a trip wire was strung across the narrow passage leading in. Stopping, Di'kana made sure Lydia was safely behind her before yanking the wire to trigger it and backing off.

A giant metal claw sprang down from above the passage, clapping over it and spikes nearly reaching them, despite the space that had been given. The noise was deafening, sure to announce their presence if there were any Falmer in the main chamber. That was alright, both of them had their weapons in hand. They were ready if anything came running.

The claw lifted up slightly, just enough to make the way passable again. The girls waited, listening but hearing nothing but the endless echo of water droplets falling from the ceiling. Finally Di'kana moved again, entering the first chamber and scanning around. There was a hut in this chamber, but no creature in it. There was, however, three bodies sprawled out before it. Closer inspection revealed them to be bandits who had met their end in this cave. Their pockets were heavy with coin as well as drawrven things. One of them even clutched a drawrven mace in his hand, as if he had died mid-swing. Di'kana wasted no time in liberating them of the coin, and taking the mace to hold out to Lydia. "Would this fit your swing?" She asked in nothing more than a hissing whisper. The mace was of an excellent make; better than the steel blade the woman was currently brandishing.

Lydia put down her sword to try it, and gave a nod in the dark. "My thanks to the unfortunate ones."

The first chamber was connected to the second by a flooded tunnel, the water cold with a thin layer of slime on the top. It was here that their first encounter happened; Chaurus were lurking in the water. Di'kana shouted her warning when she saw the water ripple around the creature, Lydia backing off as her mistress drew her body up to swing at the incoming monster. The hit was confirmed by a chattering squeal, another screech answering it from deeper in the tunnel. Lydia moved ahead as Di'kana wound up to hit the chaurus a second time for good measure. More noise echoed around and through the waterlogged passage as Lydia vanished from Di'kana's view, though her voice came back around the corner. There was a splash and the sound of something cracking; no doubt Lydia was putting her new mace to good use.

Following after her housecarl, she found Lydia had put down not just one chaurus, but two. One of them had been effectively imprinted upon the wall, the other floating on the surface of the water; limp and lifeless.

"C'mon, get your eyes up front." Lydia said with a gesture of her shield. "I can hardly see down here..."

Back in the lead, the passage soon rose up out of the water and into another cavern. This one was bigger than the entrance, though it had all the same damp and dark qualities. A rough fence had been erected mere feet from the watery passage, the gate open and the way ahead clear enough to see. The ground rose up to some kind of alter, though Di'kana could not tell what it was made out of. It was the size and shape of a coffin, and a corpse lay atop it along with several hooks and small blades. Milling around this man were three Falmer, all with their strange and twisted swords and minimal armor, and another chaurus.

Relaying what she saw to Lydia, her housecarl swapped her new mace for her bow. Lydia could see the shapes, but not the details. With what Di'kana told her, she could make educated guesses at what was what and know where to aim. Di'kana took her warhammer and moved as quietly as she could to crouch behind the fence that stood between them and the mound. The Falmer would come running for Lydia, and she would take them out as they passed.

The signal to begin was a soft hiss that Di'kana made.

One, two, three arrows sang through the air before Di'kana saw one of the Falmer cross the threshold of the fence. A fourth shot sent him to the ground, and Di'kana's warhammer came down in a mighty down stroke on the chaurus. Another Falmer laid dead at the mound, and the last was running right after his pet. Ripping her weapon upwards, his sword rang against her armor as she threw herself into a new swing from left to right, the head of the hammer aimed right for the ugly creature's face.

It went down with the blow to the head, but she didn't let silence tell her if he was dead. As was her habit she wound up for a second strike to be sure he was really finished.

With a sucking sound her hammer came free from the thing's skull, and they were once again ready to move on.

The man on the table was another bandit, ripped apart upon a table of drawrven metal. A few glances around revealed a great deal of it around them in pipes and halted machinery. It wasn't the first time Di'kana had seen a Falmer settlement near drawrven ruins, but it always unsettled her when she did. The idea that the Falmer might have had a connection to such an industrious race bothered her for some reason. These creatures were too foul for places home to such glorious and mysterious history.

Ahead, on the far end of the cave, was a set of intact double doors, leading further into the ruin. "Let us keep moving." Di'kana said softly, continuing on. The doors opened easily, revealing a smooth hallway instead of a rough section of cave. There were lights along the walls and hung from the ceiling, forcing Di'kana to wait a moment for her eyes to adjust from total darkness to this greater light. The hall stretched on some distance, but ended in a cave-in, broken stone and pipes heaped upon one another. There was, however, a passage that went off to the left right before the cave-in.

Looking back to make sure Lydia was right behind her, Di'kana shared a nod with her housecarl before moving forward. No doubt the leader of this little village would be hiding furthest back, stupidly destroying some artifact or another with blind fingers.

The passage led to an unfinished room; one that started as smooth stone but morphed into roughly hacked out rock at the back. The room was relatively small compared to the other caverns they had passed through, and there was a single Falmer present; bigger than the others and wearing a mask over his misshapen face. He had a sword in one hand, the other left free but the fingers curled in a classic ready-position for magic. He faced away from the entrance to the room, instead focused on something embedded in the wall...

"A Centurion..." Lydia gasped, nothing more than a whisper of wonder coming through her lips.

Indeed. One of the drawrven automatons that protected their ruins, possibly the most dangerous, was standing against the wall. It looked completely intact, a giant of bronze-colored metal with a warhammer the size of Di'kana's torso as one hand, a battle ax of comparable size as the other. The only comfort was it currently appeared dormant.

The Falmer, however, hissed and turned at Lydia's whisper. Robbed of sight, its other senses were higher. Both women froze as the creature took a few steps away from the metal giant and cast a protective ward over itself. Strange, slightly wet, noises came from it that Di'kana realized was the sound of it sucking air through its flat nose, trying to sniff them out. It would; there was nothing else for it to smell her. Just as clearly as she could catch the rotting scent that wafted from it, it would know they were here.

She didn't wait for it to find them. Hefting her warhammer, she left the edge of the doorway and bellowed as she drove the attack. The ward the Falmer had casted provided some resistance, like trying to strike at something through a sponge, but it was clear her blows were still doing damage as they impacted. The Falmer, one hand up to maintain his ward, swung with the other hand and hit with some power under her arm. Her armor caught most of the blow, but she felt the hot pain of skin being broken. Worse, that heat spread as the monster drew its blade back. The blade had been poisoned.

"Thane!"

Lydia's call was a warning; as Di'kana finished her current swing she jumped back and away from the Falmer. It was dazed from the latest blow, magic power spent as its glowing ward vanished. It moved to follow after Di'kana, but was arrested on the spot by an arrow that pierced through its skull and sent it tumbling backwards to the ground. Di'kana panted slightly, one hand leaving her weapon to start digging in her pouch for one of her potions. She'd brought several antidotes to counteract the poisons the Falmer liked to use, and she had to get one before the fire spreading through her blood from the wound became unbearable.

"DI'KANA!"

This was not a shout of warning; this was a scream of terror. Lydia's voice had discarded all of its usual calm and respect, letting out a horrible sound that made Di'kana look up and realize something.

The Falmer was dead, but the Centurion was awake. Lumbering steps had brought it rather close during the fight, and the poison in her system had distracted Di'kana from even seeing it was there. She'd written it off, and assumed it wasn't functional. The automatons protected the ruins, after all. If it had been active, wouldn't _it_ have killed the Falmer? But here it was, steam hissing as it wound up to smack a battle-weary Khajiit into next week.

She tried to run. Instinct would have her do nothing else, but it was too late. The hammer swung on an arc that took it directly against her ribs, picking her up and off of the ground and knocking her across the room. Di'kana's world became that of blurred and dark color as she smashed into the far wall, her only solace being that she'd raised her arm to protect her head. If she hadn't, it would have been in the way of the hammer and probably been broken. It wasn't though, and somehow she'd managed to hold on to her hammer with the other hand. She'd kept her weapon, which meant there was still hope for a fight.

If she could get up.

For a moment she forgot what was happening and where she was. Her ribs were in blinding pain, and she couldn't breathe. She drew in tiny gasps, but had to let them out as her lungs just couldn't expand with such pain laying over them. This pain soon mingled with the sensation that she'd been lit on fire, radiating from other other side, driving her to close her eyes. The ground was cold and damp; a joy in her current condition.

There was shouting. Someone was shouting to her. She couldn't hear it very well; her ears were ringing and her head was fuzzy. Everything _hurt_ so much. Still, she tried to follow the voice. The shouting gave her a sense of urgency; she needed to get back up, no matter how much it hurt.

One hand still clutched her hammer, but where was the other? She found it up near her face, closed around a bottle. A potion? Yes, she'd been poisoned; that was the fire in her blood, making her want to scream if she had the ability to draw that much breath. With a pull of her muscles she found the arm to be undamaged and mobile, and soon she had ripped the cork out of the bottle with her teeth and drank the bitter-tasting contents. Mere seconds later, she felt the fire begin to fade. One source of pain gone, she could focus on breathing a little easier. Her vision was clearing, her ears coming back from their ringing stasis, and she could heft herself upright.

When she looked up, she wished she couldn't see.

Lydia had been batted aside by the Centurion, kneeling on the ground and clutching herself. The Centurion itself looked as if it had taken some damage, but not enough... and it had turned its attention back to Di'kana, as she was still somehow alive.

There was no time to fuss over pain. She forced herself back up to her feet, even as incredible agony shot up and down her left side from her ribs. She had to put it out of her head; forget about it and fight. Otherwise... neither her nor her housecarl were going to leave this place alive.

She drew in air, made her lungs fill, and let out a scream that might have been as much for the agony as it was a battle cry. Her first strike was downward, hitting hard and allowing her weapon to bounce back off, the reverse momentum throwing her into a downward arc that went full circle and became an upward strike with the bar of her hammer braced across her chest. By now the thing was winding up for a swing at her, the ax rising up and giving her the warning to move. She pushed against the stock of her hammer, jumping to get the space she needed to dodge the blow and lifting her weapon back into her hands as the ax came down. Precious seconds were left free as it took time to recover its balance, and she rounded to get behind it with another full swing.

This time her hammer crashed past the plates of its armor, slamming into the mechanism inside. Somehow a smile managed to spread across her face, yanking back and aiming for the exact same spot on her next strike, smart feet keeping her behind the machine as her next attack hit home. The head of the hammer sank even deeper beyond the armor, and Di'kana planted her feet to push the handle forward as the Centurion continued to try and turn and face her for another attack of its own. Steam blasted from its head as it came around, the heat of which could be felt from several feet of away. Still she held her ground, watching as the head of her hammer strained against the pitch of the handle... until the plate of armor on the machine's back popped free.

It wasn't a clean break; metal remained around the studs that had originally fastened the plate in place, but it was more than enough space to work with. Di'kana just had to get behind it again without getting steamed, sliced, or crushed. Diving away, she escaped a steam bath by the tip of her tail and turned to stare up. The flow of steam stopped, but the hammer was up for another devastating blow. She watched it, once again thinking quickly and continuing to edge backwards, wanting to stay just outside of its range. This was it; either the idea she just came up with would work or she'd end up either crushed or steamed to death. It all came down to a few crucial moments.

The hammer smashed down into the ground, sending up chips of rock at Di'kana's feet as she was only inches outside of its range. She didn't take time to celebrate that though, leaping forward and onto the hammer itself. Tail raised to keep her balance, she scaled the machine to jump right over its shoulder, her hammer in both hands and ready for the final blow.

Landing behind it, her ribs screamed in pain. She was coming to the end of her threshold; black fuzz swirled at the edges of her vision. She needed to finish this now. With a turn she found herself exactly where she wanted to be; it's open back faced her. Gears and cogs spun at an incredible speed, little pieces leading up to bigger pieces that ran the whole mechanical monster. At the center of it all, glowing a deadly red, was the core.

There wasn't enough room to swing at it. She drew her weapon up, putting her hand over the end of the handle and thrusting it in to smash the center of the mechanism. In the heat of the moment, she found she had also Shouted at it, a bubble of force throwing the thing forward and away from her and causing it to fall forward, not back. A lucky stroke, not only to defeat it but to also avoid being crushed by it.

Panting, beyond spent, she fell back onto her bum as the Centurion went down. A moment later she was flat on the ground, rolled to the side as not to lay on her tail. She let go of her hammer, left hand searching for the straps that would get her armor off of her. She could feel it now; a massive dent where she'd been hit had been pressing in on her ribs this whole time. She had no idea the damage, but that shape pressing against her body was making the pain impossible to deal with. Her fingers fumbled; there was more black in her vision now. Was she losing it?

Two hands took hers, setting it aside. A moment later the straps were loose, the pressure letting off and giving her room to breathe again. She took it with a grateful gasp, her chest still heaving as she looked up to find Lydia sitting next to her. Her housecarl, though she did not look well, was definitely in better sorts than she was. A minor cut across her forehead, blood down the side of her face, and one of the shoulder plates outright missing from her armor was all Di'kana could see at a glance. Putting her head back down, she focused on staying conscious ad Lydia looked her over.

"Your armor got the worst of it." She reported after a few moments, having pressed in on her ribs several times through the tunic and judging both what she felt and the responses of her Thane. "No breaks, far as I can feel... week or two of rest and you should be alright."

"...you?" Di'kana asked, too exhausted to argue at the moment. Rest sounded good.

"Took a similar whack to the chest, but the angle was off. Knocked the wind outta me and spun me around. I'll be alright." She paused, digging a potion out of her own things and helping Di'kana drink it. It would numb the pain and give her some quick energy. "We should head home. Can you stand?"

Di'kana wasn't sure at first. Her body shook, as if it were surprised she was still alive. Granted, she didn't blame it. If her hair were not already silver she would have said this experience should have turned it so from stress. Still, she managed to be sitting up again with Lydia's help, discarding the dented breastplate and the backplate that went with it. It had been good armor, but she had enough coin to buy a new set, or to simply get the materials to make a new set herself. She didn't _like_ smiting, but she could always be assured of the fit when she made her own armor. Burning some of the fur on her fingers was just the price she paid for that.

Getting all the way up to her feet, she realized she'd left her hammer on the floor. She tried to bend over for it, but her ribs wouldn't let her. "Ugh... Lydia..."

"I've got it." The housecarl retrieved the weapon, though she made no move to give it back to her Thane. Instead she also reached out to take her helm, removing another few pounds from her burden. "I'll carry these... just this once."

Usually, Di'kana would have thrown a fit about someone else holding her weapon. Be it the Orcish warhammer she currently had, or the steel battle ax she used to wield, or the ancient Nord ax she'd had before that, she had exactly three places she was okay with her weapon being; in her hands, on her back, or stored away at home. Still, there was no denying that the less weight she carried right now, the better.

She'd let Lydia carry it.

Just this once.


	6. Flustered

**The Kitten and the Wolf**  
**Chapter Six-Flustered**

The trip back to Whiterun had been uneventful, which was a blessing considering the sun was well on its way to being set and Di'kana was already shivering with the coming night without her armor to protect her from the cold. Lydia wasted no time in starting a fire when they returned to the breezehome, helping her Thane out of her armor and into another layer of clothes over her rough tunic. Of course, she discovered the cut under her right arm in the process. In moments Lydia had her sitting in her chair in front of the fire, a fresh pot of stew set on to cook while housecarl moved to care for her Thane.

Di'kana was having trouble staying awake, even if the exposed part of her body was still cold. Lydia had made her remove her tunic to get at the wound, the rest of her wrapped up in a set of robes that reached the floor. She'd curled her tail to the right of her body, letting it hang limp as her energy left her. Lydia was making her raise her arm to get at the cut she'd suffered from the Falmer, scrubbing at it with a damp rag and sending another wave of pain that made her toes curl inside her boots, trying not to kick. It was over soon enough though, a fresh bandage getting wrapped tightly around her shoulder to keep it covered.

"It's pretty shallow." Lydia reported while helping her get her arm back through the sleeve of the robes. "I think you lost more fur than skin, but it's still safe to keep it covered for a day or two. Swinging overhand is gonna sting."

"Should grow back..." Di'kana muttered, trying to shrug but her ribs reminding her moving was not something she actually wanted to do. The potion had already worn off, or maybe the pain was just too much to be completely numbed by it. "White or black...?" She mused.

"Huh?" Lydia asked, getting up to check the pot over the fire and stir it.

"When this one was young, lost fur grew back black. Cuts, skinned knees, all of that sort... but more recent scars seem to grow back white or gray fur, like the markings on this one's face." Her left hand fumbled to draw a bit of the robe back, showing off four long streaks of white on her left leg, along the outside of the calf muscle. "When this one escaped Helgen, there was a bear. Where it clawed grew back white, after it was given time to heal."

"Don't tell me those markings on your face and chest are scars, too?" Lydia asked as Di'kana carefully rearranged herself to be covered by the robe again. It was still too cold in the house for her.

She chuckled, shaking her head as laughing made her wince. "No, no. This one was born with a white throat and chest, and grew into the little white markings. Mother called them moon and stars, once. The gray rings, this one also grew into." She looked down at herself, feeling her ears drop back in a pose similar to that of her limply hanging tail. She felt as if she were going to fall asleep in her chair. "Dinner, and then rest, yes? This day is done..."

"Do you want me to go to Jorrvaskr for you and tell them your task is completed?" Lydia asked. "You should probably stay down for a while and let your ribs heal."

"No." Di'kana shook her head. "This one will go and tell them, tomorrow morning."

Lydia was silent for a moment, well aware of what else her mistress meant without saying. "You're not gonna stay down and rest, are you?"

"Tonight, rest. Tomorrow, this one must work. This one insisted on this task; they must believe I completed it perfectly."

The housecarl sighed, looking down at the stew pot with a tight frown. Di'kana knew she was considering telling her no; thinking about trying to order her to bed rest. She also knew that would never happen; Lydia was a caregiver, but she was no master. When she looked up again, it was with defeat on her face. "Shall I go and replace your armor while the shops are still open, Thane? No doubt the blacksmith will have something similar to what you had before."

Di'kana nodded slightly. "Take coin from the chest in the lab." She agreed. "This one will stay here."

Lydia nodded, giving the pot an extra stir before putting the lid back on and vanishing to do as she'd been asked. A moment later she was back and out the door. Di'kana watched her go, almost feeling bad for what she put her housecarl through. All Lydia did was worry about her, care for her, and do her best to make sure they both saw the next day after every venture out of the city. They'd been from Dawnstar to Riften together, and Di'kana could recognize those trips would have been much more difficult, if not impossible, on her own. Still, there were some things Lydia simply could not help with; the new path she had chosen was one of them. It would have been nice to rest for a few extra days, until it didn't hurt to breathe anymore, but it was like growing up with the caravan. If you hurt yourself you still had to keep up; making everyone else stop just because you got hurt was selfish and irresponsible. Better that no one even find out you'd been hurt in the first place.

She'd return to Jorrvaskr in the morning. Skjor had a task for her, and there was no way she would hold up the show over bruised ribs.

With that thought in mind, she let her head slump down on her chest. Lydia would have to wake her up when dinner was ready.

* * *

"There you are, Kitten. What kept you?"

Di'kana was at Jorrvaskr a little later than she had planned. She'd slept longer than intended, and getting into the new breast and backplate Lydia had picked up for her had taken longer with her sore shoulder and ribs. Where she had meant to be there at sunrise, it was several hours after when she finally arrived and decided to try and enter through the entrance from the yard, hoping she'd garner less attention. Even that plan had backfired though; Skjor had been in the yard and noticed her before she could retreat back around the corner.

"This one fought the Falmer for Farkas. There was a Centurion. Coming back late, this one decided to rest." She stepped up, accepting that she'd already been caught and trying to play it off like nothing was wrong. "You wanted to see this one for something?"

"I did." Skjor confirmed without another word on how long she'd taken to get back to him. "Your time, it seems, has come."

He said that with some odd finality. Cocking her head a little to the side she asked, "What do you mean?"

"Last week a scholar came to us." Skjor explained. "He said he knew where we could find another fragment of Wuuthrad. He seemed a fool to me, but if he's right the honor of the Companions demands that we seek it out."

"Wuuthrad?" Di'kana asked.

"The legendary weapon of Ysgramor, founder of the Companions." Skjor answered. "When you first came to us, and I pointed you to the stairs under the mounted fragments on the wall? Those are the fragments we have collected so far. It is our honor to seek them all."

"And this one shall do what, knowing this?"

"This is a simple errand, but the time is right for it to be your trial." Skjor grew serious now, his voice severe and his face more-so. "Carry yourself with honor, and you'll become a true Companion."

She nodded slightly. Now was the time for the true test.

"Farkas will be your Shield-Sibling on this venture, Kitten." Skjor continued. "He'll answer any questions you have. Try not to disappoint, or to get him killed."

Di'kana responded this time with a much tighter nod; defined by tension. Farkas had been far from her mind after the beating she'd taken yesterday, but mere mention of him reminded her both of how she'd been eying him up the day before, and the fact that he hadn't noticed. Something about that made her uneasy in the strangest way, but she didn't argue with Skjor. Instead she asked, "Where is he?"

"Inside, somewhere." Skjor answered with a shrug. "Either at the table or in his chamber down below."

Again she nodded, feeling like her heart was pounding against her breastplate. "This one will do her best." She said, turning around to enter Jorrvaskr while hoping that Farkas was upstairs. Everyone else would be there; it would be less awkward if others were around, right? If she had to go looking for him down stairs, alone, when all she could think about was how she'd practically been undoing his armor with her eyes without his notice...

_Please be upstairs. Please be on the main level. _

Several of the Companions were on the main level, seated at the table around the fire pit and either talking, eating, or both. These people all seemed to have a downright wolfish appetite, though she hardly had room to talk after how much she'd put down last night after being injured. Probably just came with the territory of doing various dangerous deeds for pay; adventuring was like that. Still, as she scanned the room she felt her heart dropping. She didn't see Farkas. She did, however, see Aela. Maybe she was just stalling, but she decided to come down to where the huntress was sitting. "Morning." She said, trying her best at a cheerful greeting.

"Kitten!" Aela laughed, turning from a conversation she'd been having with Vilkas. "Took you long enough to come back to us; some were worried you'd gotten scared off. Skjor was looking for you earlier, you know."

"This one just spoke with him." Di'kana answered. "Where is Farkas?"

"Lazy Whelp is sleeping in." Aela answered. "Stayed up late, in case you showed up to report back to us. I told him not to worry about it, but..." She rolled her eyes. "You know, men."

"Stubborn ox?" Di'kana suggested.

"And half as smart." Aela agreed.

"That's my brother you're talking about, there." Vilkas threw in from Aela's other side. "He's smarter than he looks, you know."

"You kidding?" Aela shook her head. "You've got all the brains between the two of you, Vilkas, and Farkas has the brawn. Even trade, of course, but you can't fight the fact that he's not the sharpest blade at the forge."

"He did not seem that bad to this one..." Di'kana muttered, unsure of which side to take in this. Of course, she was still stalling. Maybe she could just wait it out here; Farkas had to get up _eventually_, right? On the other hand, she hated waiting...

"Why are you looking for him?" Aela asked. "Just to report back? You can do that after you handle whatever Skjor gave you; lummox should be up by then."

"Skjor said Farkas is to be this one's Shield-Sibling for this job."

"Really?" Vilkas sounded a little surprised, but then shrugged. "You should go wake him, then. No point in sleeping when there's work to be done. He's had enough hours, at any rate. His room is downstairs; right hall, left side."

Di'kana felt her ears falling; a reminder that she'd forgotten her helm at home. That or maybe she just hadn't put it on because it hurt to reach up. Now there was no excuse. With a nod and a brief mention of "Thanks" she moved for the stairs, wondering if she hadn't just made matters worse somehow... Aela and Vilkas were watching her as she went. They must have noticed her change in mood; it was impossible when her body language displayed everything so clearly. Still, she did her best to think positive.

This wouldn't be awkward unless she made it awkward. She was the only one who knew what she'd been doing, after all. All she had to do was not act like a kitten with a crush; simple as that.

Descending the stairs and opening the door, she nearly ran right into to the old maid who was constantly rushing around. Tilmo, she remembered. The woman who took care of the warriors and their messes. She only acknowledged her with a nod, moving on before she could be stopped in any conversation. If one more person called her Kitten while she was in this state of mind, she was going to start another fight.

Right hallway, left side, she was faced with a closed door. Ears pinned forward, she could hear slow breathing, soft snoring, through the door. Like the home of any creature, human or otherwise, the occupant's scent was thick and clear in the air. It didn't help with the way her mind was operating, or the fact that her heart wanted to be beating in her throat for some reason. She tried shaking her head, like the day before, to get rid of such thinking. Sadly, it didn't work. Her mind was stuck, and it was time to get moving. One thing Aela and Vilkas had noticed was her changed mood; the other thing they might notice was how long it took her and Farkas to come back upstairs. Taking too much time would mean more teasing, implications, and rumors. Like any family, they wouldn't know where to stop with a joke... and they'd never know how right they were on her count.

Pulling the door open, she peeked her head in. The room was fairly simple, about the same size of her bedroom back home. Her eyes only did a quick sweep, noting a great many bottles of mead stored throughout the room, before lighting on the bed in the corner.

The bed was big enough for one, but with his broad shoulders it looked too small for him. Oh yes, he was there, sound asleep and turned toward the wall. A few candles on a table provided light, though they were heavily burnt down from being left lit for too long. Either way, the glow they provided made a delightful contrast between golden light and black shadow, letting her take in an image that would both please and embarrass her for hours. Farkas wore no armor, nor shirt, nor much else as he snoozed away. As she'd seen before his body was a wonderful example of human musculature, even in this more relaxed state. There were furs on his bed, but he slept atop them, laying in a way that was defenseless and exposed.

Fur from the tip of her tail to the top of her spine stood up as high as it could, armor permitting along her back, as her ears dropped just as far in shock at the sight. The human races had always looked just a little too naked to her, but this was putting a whole new spin on the idea. She wasn't sure what to do; this was much worse than watching him while he practiced, and she hadn't even _meant_ to do this! Maybe she'd just slam the door shut and hope the noise woke him- but what if it didn't? Tilmo was down here; she'd probably come and ask what was going on, and trying to explain seemed a bit beyond her capacity right now.

Her eyes were working while her brain failed her, still looking at him with incredible fascination. She'd been right; his armor had been hiding many scars. His skin held evidence of several healed wounds from all manner of blades and creatures. Curiosity encouraged her to touch such things, to experience them in a more tactile manner, but she remained frozen in the doorway as fretting over what to do left her locked in place.

She'd have to wake him up herself. Letting herself in, she shut the door behind her. No reason for Tilmo to see this just because she was passing by outside. Then, coming to his bedside, she reached out to grab and shake his shoulder. Simple enough, so long as she kept her eyes on his face.

He tried to shrug her off at first, but stopped when he realized the hand on his shoulder was fuzzy. The moment he stopped trying to resist and moved to get up, she let go and turned around. Not that hiding her face did her any good; the bottle-brush tail said everything about her current state that one would usually infer from her expression.

There were a few moments of silence. She could hear him as he sat up, the bed creaking under his weight, and then stopped. He was probably experiencing a bit of brain lock too.

After a few moments, he laughed. "Vilkas sent you on wake-up call, huh? Saw a little more than you wanted to, eh Kitten?"

"Skjor says we have a job to do, as Shield-Siblings."

"Yeah, I know, he told me about it yesterday after you went to go take care of the Falmer. How'd that go, by the way?" She could hear him moving again, and eventually found herself facing the wall as not to look at him while he got dressed. "Ah, hell, who ever heard of a modest Khajiit? Sorry Vilkas didn't warn you; almost every room down here has a fireplace so it's warm down here at night. Sometimes too warm."

"Not modest, respectful." She corrected, her back beginning to feel stiff from the tension. She felt like her whole body had clenched up. "The Falmer are taken care of, as this one promised. This one apologizes for not coming back last night... there was a Centurion. It was good to rest."

"It get a piece of you?" He asked, the sounds of straps and armor hitting her ears and causing her to relax a little. Very little.

"Do you see any pieces missing?" She asked dryly, not wanting to tell the truth.

"I donno, I don't think you'd like me performinga full inspection." He chuckled again. "That is, unless you're into that sort of thing."

Any fur that had managed to flatten when right back to bristled, the various muscles on her head involved in moving her ears about beginning to ache for just how far they were trying to slump down, her shoulders coming up as she crossed her arms over her chest. "This one is fine." She assured, turning around and finding him mostly dressed, tightening the straps on the side of his breastplate and sliding gauntlets on. "You, however, are asking for another beating."

"Oh really?" His voice went to a teasing tone. "You're gonna talk tough, even after I let you have the last one?"

"There was fight left on both sides." She answered. "This one is curious who would have prevailed."

"We'll find out, one of these days." He finished with his armor, hefting a great sword that had been laid on one of the tables to holster it on his back. "But today we're on the same side, so watch it, Sister."


	7. Stories

**The Kitten and the Wolf**  
**Chapter Seven-Stories**

"Why did Skjor call this job this one's trial?" Di'kana asked as Farkas led the way out of Whiterun; he hadn't even taken the time to eat once he was dressed, moving like he just wanted to get this over with and come back. They'd only made a brief stop, at her home, so she could pick up the helm she'd forgotten that morning and jam it onto her head, trying to ignore the pain as she did so. She was sure her shoulder would complain less in the heat of battle, assuming there was a battle to be had where they were going. Her ribs, on the other hand, were a constant ache whenever she took too deep a breath. That pain was one she just had to deal with... silently.

"I watch you to make sure you're honorable." Farkas responded as they went through the gates; it looked to be another bright and clear day on the plains. "If you are honorable and strong, I can call you Sister... though I still like Kitten better."

"You called this one Sister before." Di'kana pointed out.

"Yeah, that's because I think you're gonna do well. You can tell a lot about a person after fighting them, y'know. The trial is really more about clearing up the doubts of others who haven't had the chance to trade blows with you just yet." He took a fairly brisk pace on their way down the hill, ignoring the road completely once they got to the bottom and striking off cross-country. "I could tell when you hit me... you're just like the rest of us."

"How so?" She asked, keeping pace but feeling her chest tighten for it. This was going to be a long trip. "...why did you join the Companions?"

"Me and Vilkas were raised that way. Something ugly happened when we were pups, and a man named Jergen saved us from it. We're the youngest members the Companions have ever seen; the Companions are our family." He shrugged; no doubt there was plenty more baggage to that story, but to him that was the only part that mattered. "You'll hear stories like that from all the others; orphans, lost warriors, people looking for a different life, runaways... We all came to the Companions looking for three things; honor, glory, and family." There was a beat of silence as he looked back at her, where she trailed a few steps behind him. "You're just another lost one like the rest of us, aren't you? Why did _you_ wanna join?"

"It is a long story." Di'kana answered; her left lung didn't want her to breathe. The ribs that laid over it didn't want to move to give it room to expand, but she forced it while trotting for a moment to get even with him again. "This one... many choices have been made _for _this one. Things happened that could not be fought, could not be changed. It's been..." She thought about it, "Almost two seasons. Half a year, not that it makes much difference in Skyrim. Born on the road, this one was no good at the merchant's trade and trained instead to protect the caravan. There was also a fascination with herbs and alchemy. This one stopped to collect something, mountain flowers of all things... never run out of them now, there's so many in Skyrim. This one fell behind the others, and was lost."

She paused; first to keep her breath and second because she wasn't sure just how much to say. Farkas wasn't interrupting her, but he wasn't really asking for more of the story either. He just watched her in her silence, waiting for her to decide if she was going to go on.

"There was a split in the road. There were no clues where the others had gone; the choice was a flip of a coin. Panicked, this one did not think about where the caravan had been going, check the direction... nothing. No, this one ran to catch up... and ran into a group of armed border guards, protecting a road into Skyrim. Imperials, looking for rebels in this country's war. This one was taken, along with a horse thief, and many Stormcloaks; straight to the headsman's block. In Helgen."

"Helgen?" He finally spoke up. "Wasn't that place destroyed by-"

"A dragon." She nodded. "Funny... this one owes her life to such a creature. The attack came just as this one's time was up. Tears were shed on that block; this one pined like a kitten for her family; cried out for mother and father with what were thought to be last words... and then they were not. There was a wish to go back, but the borders are closed and guarded. If there is any interest in the war, it is only in ending so that this one's family may be found."

"So you _are _an orphan; for the time being anyway."

"It is a big world." She lamented, voicing the harsh reality she'd come to terms with a long time ago. "Only so much time can be spent waiting up for one lost kitten. They will have moved on, and Di'kana has no idea where they are going now. Traders in Skyrim, even Khajiit, know nothing of other merchants who are not their suppliers. This one must be an adult now, by right of solitude." With that she lifted her head. Something about saying it out loud made her feel more determined than before. "A warrior proves adulthood by rite of combat. This one fights, therefore she is."

"Now if only you could learn to talk like the rest of us, instead of going on in third person."

Her eyes snapped back to him, feeling a glare coming on but letting it go. He wasn't allowing her to sulk in her memories; his words were mercy, not cruelty. "Given time, perhaps." She paused, having to take her time to speak like the other people in Skyrim did. Her accent remained, as she was sure it would until the day she died, but she added, "I can speak like you do, when I slow down to think of it... It feels strange to me, but I can... Khajiit do not have many words for addressing ourselves; we switch to an outside perspective to make ourselves understood without using a word that we cannot equate to our own language."

"Which means _I'll_ probably have to tell the story when we get back." He chuckled, offering her a smile.

"Story?"

"It's a mead hall, Kitten." He pointed out. "Wuuthrad is for the glory of the Companions; when we get back everyone is going to want to share a drink or ten and hear how getting the blade piece went. We drink, we swap stories of battle and such, drink some more, sing like idiots, scrap a little bit, stories get told again with a bit of exaggeration... It can get pretty crazy, but that's stuff to think about on the way back home." He gave another chuckle, shaking his head. "Not often I'm a better talker than my Sibling, though."

She let off a faint growl; was there nothing the Companions wouldn't tease her over? Facing forward, she pushed herself to pick up the pace, ignoring the protests of her sore body.

Their destination laid at least two hour's travel ahead of them.

Dustman's Cairn.

* * *

The cairn was similar to others that Di'kana had explored in the past; rocky walls, rough floors, dim lighting if any, and the distinct smell of bodies that had been preserved far beyond their time. She'd drawn her weapon the moment they got past the door, passing from the sunny Skyrim day to the dark and dank of the cairn. She didn't trust places like this; they were always full of draugr and often several other kinds of nasty things. Farkas had also brought his sword out, right behind her as he insisted she was to lead from here on in; it was her trail, after all.

There were stairs heading down directly after the door, and Di'kana stuck to the wall as her eyes adjusted to the limited light in the chamber beyond. The first chamber was largely empty, though there were several upright burial stones that had been wrenched open along its walls. The air, though it bore all the usual smells, did not seem as still as most crypts usually did. Those places were always stagnant, dusty, and Di'kana would get the distinct sense that she was in a place where no living creature had been for years... she did not get that feeling with this place.

"Looks like someone's been digging here... and recently." Farkas commented, looking around just as carefully and noting that there was a rough hole in the wall where a door would usually block the way onward. "Tread lightly..."

She nodded a little, making a quick search of the room for danger and possible alchemy reagents; if there was one upside to going through places of the dead it was the abundance of bone meal she'd find, as well as particular breeds of mushroom. At the same time she knew she wouldn't be carrying back a lot from this trip; just walking here had tried her out. With some dread she knew fully well that walking back would be an even greater pain.

Her cursory search found little of use, but something of interest; a draugr lay crumpled on the floor. It looked to have recently been stabbed. "This one thinks..." She said quietly, pushing the now permanently dead monster onto its back get a better look, "We may have been preceded."

"Great..." Farkas muttered, sarcasm on his voice. "Let's keep moving, Sister."

She nodded, going through the hole in the wall to another set of stairs that took them further underground. At their base was another dead draugr, causing Di'kana's tension to rise. There was a gallery ahead of them, a chamber where the walls had been carved with many crevices for the dead to rest in, where several more draugr laid crumpled on the floor. Had the information that had been given to the Companions been shared? And if so, was it an accident or on purpose? Such questions were for another time though; they would keep moving and find out the truth soon enough.

"Be careful around the burial stones." Farkas mentioned, not wasting breath on the obvious worry that someone else had gotten here before them. "I don't want to have to haul you back to Jorrvaskr on my back."

"This one has not been carried since she was a kitten." She responded, practically hissing the words and stopping short of entering the gallery. There were no clear lights ahead of them, but she could see... something had moved. Her hands wrung on her warhammer, seeking out details. Was that...? Yes, there was a draugr, up and walking around. Well, it was nice to know the cairn hadn't been completely cleared out... but that also meant it was time to grit her teeth and bear the worst of the leftover pain from her underarm and ribs.

She didn't give herself time to think about it; she sprinted forward into the darkness, though it didn't seem so dark to her, and lifted her warhammer up to smash down on the undead skeleton.

Pulling up hurt more than swinging down, but both motions caused stabs of pain. That didn't matter; she'd dropped one draugr to find three more in the darkness, all zeroing in on where their comrade had just fallen. The noises they made were her cue as to which one was closer, stepping and turning to swing and smash.

Farkas was right behind her; she could have sworn he could see just as well as she could because he attacked with just as much precision, letting out a short cry before a solid _crunch_ came from his target, followed by the sound of the dry bag of bones and skin falling to the floor in a heap as he rounded into a second motion and a stop-thrust. He had turned around before that was even over with, a fifth adversary stepping out from a crevice in the wall just in time to run directly into his blade.

The melee was over in seconds, leaving the both of them in the dimness and listening for anything else moving about in the many spaces of the gallery.

While there was no sound, Di'kana felt as if she were being watched. She turned, leading the way to search for the next passage to continue on. There were some candles in other parts of the gallery, but most of them had burned down through their wax, their lights either dim or gone. Stepping quickly, another corridor of stairs looked to be leading them even deeper to a more decrepit part of the cairn. A column of stone and shifted into the middle of the space, and the next set of candles was several yards ahead, leaving shadows in the middle.

The stone hall eventually leveled out, leading to a table surrounded by embalming tools and wraps; things used to prepare the dead for their unlife many years ago. Di'kana didn't even take the time to inspect it; no matter how many of these places she went through she would never want to spend more time than she had to thinking about what was done to preserve the bodies in such a way. According to her, the dead should have been allowed to rot in the ground like all other animals, not prepped and boxed up in stone.

"Not a fan?" Farkas asked as he saw a shudder pass through her, following the passage to the right where it opened up into a large chamber.

"No." She answered shortly. "This one is not. Preserving the dead is a sick practice; bury or burn them, but why save bodies? For what reason?"

"So they can get up and try to kill us, centuries later?" He asked, making a sarcastic point.

She shook her head. "Leave this one in the woods somewhere, like any other creature." With that she turned her attention forward again; the area they had just entered was a wide circle with a high ceiling that they currently stood close to. There was a small wooden platform split in two along the edge, stone stairs carved into the middle space leading down to the lower floor. Two throne-like chairs were built into a platform against the wall, another dead draugr on the floor next to them. Coming down the stairs she could see one passage was blocked off by iron bars, no doubt the way forward, and a switch set back into a well-lit alcove.

Farkas departed from her side, taking a look at the rest of the room and seeming not to notice the switch she'd seen in mere seconds of being on-level with it. Glancing at him, she shrugged and moved straight ahead to go throw it. The less time she had to spend in this place, the better.

Getting there, it was less an alcove and more a small room behind a choke-point. There were a few tables with potions that she quickly snatched up, as well as more embalming tools lying around that she grimaced at and ignored. Then, once she was sure she'd grabbed everything she wanted, she put down her warhammer to pull the lever.

She heard a metal grating move. In fact, she heard _two. _Turning around, she found the room she'd entered was now sealed off in the same way the passage forward had been. Iron bars now stood between her and the rest of the room. She grabbed them, shock and fear running through her; she didn't do well with containment. She didn't shout; instead her active mind went into lock and she left of a more bestial yowl.

"What the-?!" She heard Farkas before she saw him, running over to see what happened. His voice did some to ameliorate the beast she became when fear claimed her, simply staring at him instead of lashing out. Still, any concern he might have had was replaced with entertainment at her predicament. "Now look what you've gotten yourself into." He teased, wearing a smirk.

"This one does not find it funny." She snarled, yanking at the bars with her hands. Small places did not usually bother her, but once they were sealed up she felt the need to thrash around and get out as soon as possible. It made her want to panic for some reason, as if that would help her.

"No worries." He assured, coming a little closer to put a hand over one of hers. It seemed he could tell what the shock of being suddenly trapped was doing to her. "Just sit tight. I'll go find the release."

Her response was little more than a feral growl; something else had just shocked her right back into her animal mind-set. Her nose and ears had given her the first hint that they were not alone, and the rest was revealed to her eyes only moments after. Farkas turned around as he realized it too, seeing several people, both men and women, run in from the passage that had just opened. They were all armed with what appeared to be silver weapons, ranging from daggers to great-swords. Anywhere from eight to ten of them, they were quick to make a circle around Farkas and trap him against the wall.

Di'kana watched with her teeth bared, the additional threat driving her to a point where she thought of her talons before she thought of her warhammer, still leaning against the wall by the switch she'd thrown. Sadly, there was nothing she could do about this situation. She was trapped, unable to help her partner, and helpless herself.

"It's time to die, dog." One of the men among them taunted. Farkas backed up against the bars that Di'kana was trapped behind. Surprised by the development, but he hadn't raised his sword.

In fact, he'd dropped it. The action was enough to bring back a few of Di'kana's neurons, wondering what in the world he was doing. Glancing down she saw that he'd reached one hand across himself to the side of his armor, expertly undoing the straps that kept breastplate and backplate tight to his body. She didn't get it; why was he trying to take off his armor?

"_Help." _He muttered, hardly audible. "I'd rather not ruin this set."

"We knew you'd be coming here." One of the women among them said, the circle drawing in slowly. It seemed they were all confident that they had their prey cornered, willing to take their time and prod at him. Di'kana, still not exactly sure what was happening, did as Farkas told her and reached through the bars to loosen the straps on his other side, hidden as he let his arm back down. In mere seconds the armor for his torso was loose, the fact that his arms were at his sides being the only thing holding it on.

"Your mistake, Companion." Another said as Di'kana moved on to his gauntlets since she could reach them and saw no reason not to. He apparently thought it important, and she didn't think now was the right time to ask questions. She worked on every leather strap she could reach as quickly as she could without accidentally slicing them.

"Which one is that?" Yet another asked.

"Doesn't matter." The first one to speak answered back. "He wears the armor, he dies."

_Armor? _Farkas's didn't look that fancy... who were these people?

"Killing you will make an excellent story." The man who questioned Farkas's identity looked at him again, grinning with blood lust.

"None of you will be alive to tell it." Farkas answered. His voice seemed even rougher than usual as he stepped away from the bars, shedding of almost all the armor on his upper body in a few quick motions. It was incredible how quickly he freed himself of his clothes, but something else was happening at the same time that explained the whole reason behind it.

Di'kana backed away from the bars that kept her caged in as she realized that Farkas was changing shape. His already broad frame was growing larger and taller, the skin darkening and dark fur rising up and out of his skin. His boots, which he hadn't been able to remove in the short time allowed, were ruined as the transformation forced any suggestion of humanity away. Muscles bulged and broke any leather straps that had been left on, a tail grew from the base of his spine and raised up for balance as he bent forward, and dangerous claws grew out from simple human nails.

The transformation had taken seconds or less, but Di'kana knew she'd be replaying the scene in her head for hours at the least.

She'd just watched Farkas transform into a beast. A wolf. A wild creature that roared at its hunters and dispatched them with terrifying speed and finesse, fangs and claws rending flesh and dropping bodies faster than their blades could flash out to strike him. She wasn't sure what had taken longer; the transformation or killing them all. Either way both events had been short and violent. He stood tall over the bodies, sniffing the air before turning and looking behind himself.

She stared, oddly thankful for the bars at that moment. His eyes focused on her, bright yellow with the transformation and full of that burning energy she'd seen in him before. Blood was smeared over his maw, and she wasn't sure just how human he was at that moment. Why was he staring at her? Did he even know who she was, who _he_ was? Or was he nothing but a killer, let loose from his mortal form for a few moments of insanity?

He turned from her, running off and out of her sight to where his attackers had come from.

Not sure of what else to do, she fell down to the floor and waited.


	8. Secrets

**The Kitten and the Wolf**  
**Chapter Eight-Secrets**

It hadn't taken Farkas long to pull back from the transformation and return to his regular self, though doing so always left him with the feeling that he'd just shed his skin and a layer of muscle to boot. Speaking as a Nord, the world felt unnaturally cold... on the other hand, that may have been because he'd shed of most of his armor to avoid destroying it. Either way he was quick to find the release for the cell Di'kana had managed to get herself trapped in, coming back to suit back up and salvage the pieces that he could. He didn't look up at her as he did so; she was probably still in shock. Everyone reacted a little differently to seeing something like that, and the abrupt revelation wasn't good to anyone's mind. Some went straight for their weapons; others just checked out.

It wasn't until he was fully covered again, taking a set of boots from one of the idiots who'd tried to kill him, that he turned to see how she was doing.

She was still in that little cell; she hadn't moved even though the bars blocking her way were gone. With her helm on he couldn't see her face, but the one part of her that was always left bare told him plenty; her tail was bushed up like a cat who'd recently been stepped on. It was actually a bit funny-looking, like a giant wire-brush with alternating rings of black and light gray. Bending down in front of her, smartly out of swiping range, he did his best to keep his entertainment to himself. "Di'kana, you still alive in there? Don't tell me I scared the Kitten to death."

She wavered on the spot was if she were going to go from sitting to sprawled on the ground, but managed to stay upright. She did, however, fumble to take her helmet off. Without it he could see her jaw was slack and her fangs showed as if she meant to bare them but just couldn't summon the will. She was panting, soft growls coming out with each exhale as her blue eyes reflected nothing but hollow confusion. Her ears laid back on her head, following the fact that it looked as if she meant to appear aggressive but she was simply stuck somewhere just short of it.

"Jeez..." He huffed, sitting on the ground with his legs crossed. "_Cats." _

She blinked. Once, twice, and her brow came down. A few moments later she took a slower breath to stop the panting, closing her mouth and shaking her head as if there were water in her ears. Then, finally, she mastered her tongue. "_Not _cat." She corrected. "Khajiit. Warrior. Very confused." She looked around, as if she didn't remember how she'd gotten on the floor, and then focused on him again. "What did you just do?"

"It's a blessing, given to some of us." He explained. "We can be like wild beasts. Fearsome."

"Werewolf." The word dropped from her mouth, seeming to bring her a little more calm as she had the proper term in her head. "Are all the Companions...? Will this one have to-?"

"Oh, no." He answered quickly, putting his hands up in a defensive gesture. "Only the Circle have the beastblood. All you _have_ to do to be a Companion is prove your honor. Don't worry Kitten, you get to make all your own decisions."

She swallowed, clearly still a little panicked but nodding all the same. "You... were not kidding when you said 'doghouse,' it seems."

"A little inside joke." He shrugged, standing up and holding his hand out to help her back to her feet. "Sorry I scared you; changing in front of others is something we usually avoid, but ten against one... well, even I have trouble with those odds." He then laughed a little, smirking as she accepted his assistance. Her eyes were still a tad absent. "You gonna be okay?"

"This one is..." She paused, having trouble expressing her thoughts. "This is something that should not have been seen, no? Secret of the Companions, yes, but is this event a secret _from_ the Companions?"

"We don't keep secrets, Sister." He said, letting go of her hand once she was steady and taking her helm to put it back onto her head. "I'll have to tell my brother I messed up when we get back, and it would be right for you to tell Kodlak what you saw. 'Course, no one is gonna _make_ you say anything. We're all our own masters, but honesty is part of honor."

"Will there be punishment?"

"For you?" He shook his head, chuckling. "Yeah right; it was me who messed up. You'll just be asked to keep your mouth shut and not ask too many questions of the others."

"Who were they?" She asked, gesturing to the fallen men and women who had foolishly tried to attack a werewolf. They had seemed to know what he was beforehand, which made ten people seem a small force.

"The Silver Hand." He responded with a shrug, as if it were old news. "Werewolf hunters; no one would actually believe the Companions have beasts among the ranks, so they simply try to hunt us down and take us out wherever we wonder. They're too cowardly to try and attack us at Jorrvaskr." He then motioned back into the cell where the switch was; her weapon was still leaning on the wall. "C'mon, we should get moving again. We still have the draugr to worry about."

She turned; apparently she'd forgotten she'd left her warhammer back there and rushed to grab it. The fur on her tail had flattened a great deal by now, but it still looked a little bushy. She wasn't completely calm, but at least she was moving again.

She hissed faintly as she hefted the heavy weapon up with both hands, holding it at the ready against her chest.

"You alright, Kitten?"

"Let us keep moving." She answered, the question to her condition causing her to shut down and move forward.

* * *

There was more than the draugr to worry about now; the Silver Hand had at least a score more agents scattered throughout the cairn, hiding in the shadows and trying to get the drop on them as they delved deeper into the ruin. Di'kana wondered if it had been one of them who had come to the Companions and lied about a piece of Wuuthrad to trick them into coming out here, but that theory died as they continued to find more of them at every turn. If this were a trick they would have had their complete force present before, ready to rip a werewolf into a thousand pieces. Instead they were scattered; searching for the same thing they were. The supposed 'Wise man' who had come and told the Companions about the blade piece must have given the same information to the rival group... or had it coerced out of him.

There had also been a chamber taken over by spiders of the giant variety. All of it was quick work, but Di'kana got the feeling that Farkas didn't particularly like such large creatures with so many legs. That was odd... a dog that didn't like spiders. She liked them just fine; her warhammer met almost no resistance when she crushed them. The other things they fought in their route were not so easy; the shock of striking bone or armor sent stabs of pain through both of her old hurts. More than once she found her mouth open for panting not out of exhaustion, but over stimulation. In the heat of battle she felt little, but in the breaks between fights she knew pain almost as great as the original injuries.

Stupid Centurion.

A worry began to mount that the Silver Hand may have beaten them to the artifact, but that was banished when they got to the double doors that would take them into the grand crypt; two draugr stood in front of it. Enduring the pain of taking them down, Di'kana felt relief that her trial had not been ruined by a band of werewolf hunters.

Beyond was a grand chamber that was similar in style to several that she had seen in other cairns; a high ceiling rose up and upright burial stones covered the walls. One sarcophagus lay like a stone table in the center of the room, denoting a powerful draugr contained within. She remained tense on her weapon as she and Farkas made their way up the various short sets of stairs that gave the room a tiered effect, looking around for any activity. So _many_ of these things... she felt as if something were being guarded. She could feel their presence; at least twenty dead in this room that would rise to arms to fight them, and yet none had stirred.

It was making her nervous.

"There it is." Farkas pointed ahead.

Di'kana abandoned her contemplation of what was behind them as they made it to the far end of the crypt; before them was a table that contained a verity of prizes from potions to soul gems... all of which were scattered around a fragment of a shattered blade. She nodded, but grew distracted as they approached it.

Sound came upon her that she knew only she could hear; the forceful chanting of words in a language that had power imbued in every syllable. Her eyes tracked up beyond the table and saw something that made her mildly upset as well as happy; a wall carved with words of power. The chanting in her head began to vibrate through her bones, calling her to come and look, come and see a new word that her mind would adsorb into her vocal arsenal. The world around her seemed to dim as she passed upon the table with her prize for the Companions and approached the wall as if she were a puppet on strings, the word with the most power left in it shining as a beacon in the night.

Farkas could have asked for her, either by name or that silly nickname, and she would not have heard him. The chanting was too loud, the reaction of her blood and spirit too forceful. She'd been taken out of the present as one hand left her warhammer and brushed upon the characters that glowed and swelled with ancient knowledge... knowledge she could simply adsorb, all because she was what she was.

All because she was Dragonborn.

She hated this destiny; this path she been forced onto. She resisted it with all her might when it came to the idea of going to High Hrothgar, to answer the summons of the Graybeards. But this? This was something she couldn't resist; the new word flowed into her as the chanting overwhelmed her and sent a strange euphoria through her body. Voices from an era past forced her into a world beyond her current physical bounds, and the new word graced her tongue without her even meaning to speak it.

"_Yol." _

She'd muttered it, without force, simply to cement its place in her. Even so, she felt heat in her mouth and knew what it would do. If she were to Shout she would have blown flames from her lips.

"Di'kana?"

Everything stopped at the same time; she felt as if she'd fallen out of a dream and back into that cold crypt. Her hand still rested on the wall, talons sunk into the grooves of the word she'd just learned. Farkas was behind her, having taken hold of her shoulder. She turned slightly, looking at him and not sure of what she would say. Honesty may have been part of honor, but she had no desire to be defined by this destiny. "Ah... sorry." Was all she could come up with.

"You got a thing or this stuff or something?" He asked; he still had his sword in hand. He was just as nervous about all the burial stones as she had been before she'd heard the call of the words. He must have thought her completely insane to let her guard down at a time like this, with the prize so close at hand.

"This one... would rather explain at another time." She said sheepishly, turning away from the wall and shaking his hand off in the same motion. "Let us finish this."

He watched as she approached the table, picking and choosing of the things that were there. She was no enchanter, the soul gem was useless to her. Instead she took and tucked away the potions first; she had no doubt the draugr would rouse as soon as she took the blade piece; what else would they be guarding?

"Keeping secrets?" He wondered out loud.

She shook her head, her hand hesitating over the blade piece. "This one mentioned choices that were made for her... a destiny she did not want... joining the Companions to escape from it, she has no wish to mention it. Granted, such a destiny has perks aside from it's burden."

She could see him getting more confused the longer she talked. Why bother hiding it? As with any new word she had the urge to use it; to test it out and see what it really could do. The second she did he'd be filled with more questions. Her right to secrets was fairly low right now, seeing as she'd witnessed his transformation earlier. He'd faced her without shame, even though it was something he shouldn't have shown her... and in his case the stakes were much higher. Werewolves were considered evil by nature; daedra worshipers and things of that ilk. Anyone who found out the truth about the Companions would be liable, if not expected, to try and take a sword to them. Her? People literally bowed down before her when they saw her Shout, or witnessed her absorbing a dragon's power after slaying it. Her path was a burden of glory. He considered his a gift which forced him into grim secrecy.

She was sensing some irony here.

"Perks?" He asked, his tone matching his face.

She nodded at him, deciding. "This one will explain... after we get out of here."

It was better to test a new Shout out in the open anyway. Accidents tended to happen with new words. She watched him a moment more to see him nod in agreement, and then turned her attention back to the fragment. With a touch she knew it was something special, and she picked it up and stashed it away quickly. Returning her hand to her weapon, she watched the whole of the crypt with darting eyes to find her suspicions confirmed; she could hear the sound of the dead moving within their resting places. The rattling of bones and the hushed rasping of dry skin rubbing against itself, and dry tongues trying to speak long after the ability was lost; the draugr were waking.

The first to burst open was that of the grandest; the stone lid of his coffin was thrown free as a skeletal fist forced it open, sitting up after it and drawing out a war ax that glowed with an enchantment. Di'kana shouted her battle cry, charging in before she could remember the agony breathing deeply put her in. Her goal was to beat this creature into pieces before it was even completely out of its stone death bed, bringing her hammer down and striking recklessly.

Farkas had left her side; more draugr were freeing themselves to join the fight. He'd keep them off of her while she dealt with the nasty one. That was good, because her strikes weren't going to stop this one from rising. She was making a wide sweep for its head when it protected itself with its ax, using only one hand for the heavy weapon as it finished standing up from its grave.

Then, with a draw of breath that made Di'kana well away what was going to happen next, the thing Shouted at her.

"_Fus... roh DAH!" _

The force hit her and threw her, not only knocking her several paces back but sending a shock along her breastplate that slammed into her ribcage. It made her cough, losing her breath to searing pain and nearly losing her weapon in the same moment. She tightened her fingers though, snarling and throwing herself forward before the draugr could follow after her. Her whole body went into the next attack, the head of her hammer breaking ribs but the draugr seeming not to care as it struck at her with its ax from the other direction. She twisted to take the blow on her backplate, yanking her hammer free and powering into another swing while her feet moved to alter her angle of attack.

She didn't believe much in defending; all out offense was more her style. Why waste time waiting for a foe to figure out her weakness, when she could just keep hacking away at them? Her armor was there to protect her; she focused on dealing as much damage as she could with every swing, every blow, letting out her breath in bellows of effort that may have sounded like the screams of a wild animal. If she did block, it was because she'd intercepted an attack with one of her own, not because she was guarding. This style had worked out well for her so far, and she'd seen no reason to change it up yet.

Perhaps today was the day something would change.

She was sure she had to be getting the upper hand; even one of the undead had to stop after their body became so broken, right? With a roar she hefted for an overhand swing, the slice under her right arm adding to her miserable stupor as she bent her knees to bring down as much power as she could upon this thing's head. Even if she missed she'd hit one of its shoulders and break bones, hopefully disabling one of its arms and preventing further attack. It saw her assault coming and raised its own ax in defense, deflecting her blow but stumbling back. She felt a rush; victory was at hand. She gathered herself to try again, this time hefting the heavy head of her hammer to the right side and throwing her body to the left with the swing.

The draugr raised its own weapon to try and return the strike, but there hadn't been enough time for it to position and swing its ax. The weapon moved for her, but the angle was all wrong. Di'kana saw it, but disregarded it as nothing to worry about. She would win this battle and join Farkas in mopping up the others.

The draugr swung at her anyway, the force only increased for the fact that she threw herself right into it. Even if it was the blunt side of the ax that hit her, it was with incredible force... right where the Centurion had hit her the day before.

Breath left her, the lung under her ribs paralyzed as her own attack hit and crushed the draugr's skull. Her heart beat in her ears as both she and the corpse fell to the floor. It lay dead, she kneeling and desperately trying to breathe again. It was as if a catch had closed over her throat, preventing anything from getting in or out as she tried desperately to draw in air. She was drowning; drowning without water. Her chest ached, and blackness swam over her eyes. Was this dying? Was she to suffocate here?

_No!_

She shifted herself from kneeling to lying on her back through sheer force of will, the movement hurting more than the initial strike. Doing so, however, relived the pressure she was feeling. Suddenly her lungs came loose, and she was able to draw a sweet breath that was quickly followed by another. Gasping, she grappled for a potion and brought it to her lips, swinging it down between grateful gasps. Soothing warmth spread through her as soon as she swallowed, numbing the pain throughout her body and giving her the energy to once again stand on her own two feet.

Farkas was still fighting. Even if she had defeated the big ugly, there were at least a dozen more to deal with. She didn't have time to lay here in distress; with any luck he hadn't even seen her fall down. Wiping her chin from her messy consumption of the potion, she threw herself forward, jumped up onto the coffin her first enemy had climbed out of, and kicked off of the rim to join Farkas down below, landing on one of the attacking draugr and aiming her hammer at another.

These undead crumbled much more easily.


	9. Unwanted Fate

**The Kitten and The Wolf**  
**Chapter Nine-Unwanted Fate**

The battle didn't last long after Di'kana joined Farkas in the main fray, the two of them swinging and smashing their way through what must have been at least ten to fifteen draugr that awoke in pairs and trios to come and fight them. Di'kana even traded her hammer to one hand at some moments, sucking down another potion when the pain in her side even tried to return; the mixtures she had chugged down would keep her energy up and the pain at bay until later... how much later, she wasn't sure.

She knew she'd taken more damage than she could stand; the moment the pain got to her again she was sure to have trouble moving and breathing. Her first focus was to finish the fight as fast as possible, and, once that was done, to leave the cairn and head straight for Whiterun. She didn't even talk to Farkas as the last body fell, putting her warhammer on her back and searching for the nearest exit. Similar to the common house cat, her ability to sweat was limited. What few glands she had, on the palms of her hands and bottoms of her feet, were working over time. Even if she wasn't feeling it, her body knew she was hurt. Moving was probably the last thing she _should_ have been doing, but she couldn't let him see her like this.

No. Slowing down others was the last thing she'd ever allow herself to do. She asked for this work, she'd accepted this test, and now she was going to just collapse after battle? _No. _She would not allow it. She'd found their exit; a rocky passage beyond one of the burial stones that had been pushed open during the fight. It led back to the first chamber she and Farkas had entered in this place; very close to the door that would take them back outside.

Night had fallen upon Skyrim, and she allowed herself a deep breath to drink in the night air. The smell was calming, but she did everything she could to keep moving. Not even looking back to assure that Farkas was still following her, she took brisk steps to the stairs that would get her out of this hole in the ground.

_Just have to stay standing until I can get home. Farkas can go back to the Companions for the night, and I can rest... _

The very idea of collapsing into bed was a happy day-dream, distracting enough that she lost her balance when she mounted the steps. Suppressing a yelp and one hand reaching out to dig talons into the wall, she desperately tried to recover herself as her armor dragged her down. One boot slipped from the step, and she was falling backwards. Impact with the ground was sure to jar her ribs, even through all the pain-reliving concoctions she'd ingested. Without thinking her body went ridged, bracing for what was to come.

Instead she found herself arrested mid-fall, hands catching her under her arms. She flinched, the cut under her right arm flaring up briefly, but kept her mouth shut as she remembered Farkas had been right behind her the whole time. He'd caught her as if she'd weighed nothing at all, and pushed her back onto the steps. Still, he didn't let her go, even when she was steady again. "You still rattled, Kitten?" He asked. "It was a hell of a fight; we can stop and rest."

_No doubt he can tell I'm hurt. Warrior, and werewolf. He have to be blind if he didn't see me shaking, and more than likely he can smell the distressed sweat. It doesn't matter though; stopping is not an option. _

"No." Was all she said out loud, leaning forward to get him to let go and continue on. It felt as if he wouldn't let her at first, but then he released and followed after her as she climbed. Daring to spare awareness for him, she got the sense that he was following her closer than usual... as if he expected her to fall over.

She returned her focus to both her breathing and her feet, trying to keep one steady and the other brisk. She had to trust the rest of her body to move automatically and carry the constant weight of her armor and weapon without faltering. No mistakes were permitted; tripping over herself or the terrain would give him cause for concern. Her pride would not suffer such things.

"So..." His voice came after they were several paces away from the cairn's entrance, striking off to make a straight line to Whiterun's front gate. It was the exact same path they'd taken out; she had to hope it was clear of hostile wildlife. "What happened down there? That wall with all the carvings on it; you seemed pretty interested in it."

She felt like growling. At any other time she would have taken pleasure in his every word, enjoying the rough quality and simple cadence of his voice, but at the moment it prodded her into conversation... she wasn't sure she could handle it. Safer to walk in silence, to concern herself only with the tramp of her boots and keeping her mind off of her ribs as their pain continued to bleed through, regardless of how much potion she'd consumed.

Still, she had told him she would explain after they left the cairn. She was many things, but a liar was not one of them. Reaching up and removing her helm to let the cool night air take away the fire her body seemed to be producing at the moment, she turned to look at him over her shoulder. "This one is... gifted, in a way." She spoke carefully, trying to decide just how to explain. "You are a Nord, no?"

"I am." He nodded, watching her carefully. She had some trouble figuring the exact emotions behind expressions of those not of her own kind, but the set of his jaw and the stress of his eyes showed a measure of concern and worry... signs that she was already failing in her own given task of not being a bother. "Why?"

"This one understands that all Nords know the stories." She faced forward again, blinking blearily as she wondered if she even had the strength to demonstrate a Shout at the moment. "Like you showed this one your secret, you will understand better if this one shows you hers."

She then stopped walking, holding one arm out as a warning for him to stay back. Her mind went back to that moment at the wall, when she'd been gifted her latest word of power. She remembered the word, and a dragon soul she'd adsorbed some time ago had already given her all the knowledge she needed to speak it. Staring out into the night, she drew breath and found tranquility in it. Cool air soothed the embers of pain and the fire of her flesh, centering her focus and leading her to that untouchable place the words always seemed to come from.

Holding that breath for but a moment, the Shout ran through her before it was released from her lips.

"_YOL!" _

Fire sprang forth in a bright wave that did well to sear her eyes, as they had adjusted for the darkness. She'd faced herself up, away from the dry grasses of the plain and blowing the flare into the sky. For a moment both she and Farkas were bathed in heat and light, and while her tongue felt as if it had been burned none of the fur on her face had been harmed. Then, without anything to sustain it, the fire was gone.

His shock, like most guards who paid witness to her shouting or adsorbing the power from a slain dragon, started as a moment where he was completely dumb. Then, when he remembered to breathe, he looked back down from the sky where she stood before him. "You're..." He blinked. "_You're_ the one everyone's been talking about around town? The Dragonborn?"

She was still mastering herself after letting off the Shout; vicious pain had stabbed into her as the energy left her. Still, she forced herself to get her breath back and answer him. "This... this one did not want it... Being the Dragonborn..."

"The choice that was made for you." He said it before she could, nodding his understanding. The others made fun of him for being slow, but Di'kana didn't see that. No, he thought about things in a simpler way. That was proven by what he said next. "I won't tell anyone." He assured, not asking any other questions.

"What of secrets?" She saw fit to point out, even though relief flooded her after he made such a statement. "Honesty and honor?"

He came to stand next to her, a heavy hand landing on her head and mussing her hair. "It's one thing to keep a mistake a secret from your family." He said. "But it's another thing to keep a secret safe for a sibling, Sister. You don't want this... this identity that was forced on you to ruin what you're trying to do with your life. You don't want it stealing away your freedom. I can respect that."

She nodded a little, not really noticing his hand. She was aware of the weight on her head, but she was distracted as breathing grew more difficult. It felt like all of her core muscles were going ridged, squeezing her ribs against her lungs. She knew she'd meant to thank him, but whatever words escaped her were likely both in her native tongue and completely unintelligible. Without even realizing it, she'd closed her eyes and fallen to her knees. Did he call for her? She wasn't sure. She was on the ground now, and it was cool against her body.

That was good; it felt like everything was burning up. Maybe she'd just sleep for a while...

* * *

Lydia had just been finishing her evening meal when a harsh knock came at the door. Actually, it sounded more like someone had kicked it. The noise was something that made her wonder if the door hadn't just been assaulted with a battering ram, and the time of night for such a knock made her worry. While the title of the Khajiit she served was respected in Whiterun, the breezehome had seen vandalism before from residents who felt having a cat within the walls was a bad idea. Had what she heard been a knock, or another attack from the closed-minded? Rising from her meal, she flinched as the violent noise came at the door again; she was almost positive that was the sound of someone kicking the door with more force than needed.

Checking the mace hanging upon her belt, she went to answer... if only for fear that another knock would cause the door to splinter.

The door opened upon a man whom Lydia has seen for mere moments earlier that day when Di'kana had returned to the house to retrieve her forgotten helm; one of the Companions. She usually would have taken longer to commit some of his features to memory, as well as assess his comportment before questioning the nature of his knocking, but her attention was dragged away by his burden. Carried on his back was Di'kana, her head slumped and her limbs left limp as he held her slung across his shoulders.

"What the...? What happened?!"

"Kit passed out on the walk back to the city." He answered. "Collapsed, more like."

Lydia moved out of the way, waving him in. "The bed upstairs, to the right. Get that armor off of her; I've a few potions in the lab that might help to bring her around."

He nodded, doing as he was told without another word. Lydia shut the door quickly, rounding to scuttle to the lab in the back room and search through the stockpile of potions her mistress kept. In moments she had a number that would serve to assist, rushing upstairs to find the Companion was at her lady's beside, just lifting her breastplate off and seeing the bandages on her right shoulder from under her tunic. By the look of surprise on his face, she had to guess it was news to him that the Khajiit had been injured before they'd gone to their task.

"She'd come looking for work when she was hurt?" He asked, moving out of the way as Lydia bustled in, more practiced hands doing away with various straps and yanking heavy metal plating away from the little body it covered. She would never get used to just how much bulk Di'kana's armor added to her. Sitting at the head of the bed herself, she uncorked one of the potions she'd brought from below and began the careful work of getting her to drink it while unconscious.

"Looking to impress." Lydia answered briskly, too focused on her task to look up. "Or at least not to admit she may have pushed too hard..."

There was a moment's silence, as if he were unsure of what to do with himself. Lydia honestly didn't care; she'd deal with him after Di'kana was once again awake.

"She always like this?"

"Don't look down on her for it." Lydia responded, sensing that the Companion was unimpressed. "It may be tough to tell if you're not familiar with the race... but she's actually pretty young. All she really wants is to prove she's worthy to control her own life; to herself, and to everyone else."

A moment later, Di'kana coughed. Her ears laid back to her head as her tongue flicked out, catching the drops of potion that had ended up in the fur around her mouth, rolling herself onto her right side and one hand feeling blindly for her ribs. Her voice came after, muddled in her native tongue in what Lydia could imagine were the most colorful words. Lydia caught her hand, laying it back down to the furs on the bed and speaking in a soothing tone. "Easy, my Thane... you're back home... now tell me what happened, in common, please."

"_Broad side of a battle ax..." _Her voice was strangled with the pain she was still feeling through the balm of the potion. _"Same side as the centurion..." _

With a wince, Lydia nodded and applied her hands to the same ribs that had been slammed by the drawrven automaton. Her Thane kicked, the fur on her tail bristling as she let out a pained yowl that was outside the human vocal range, despite the fact that Lydia kept her touch as light as she could. Still, she knew soon enough what was wrong.

"I told you, you should have rested longer... these ribs were bruised this morning; now they're cracked."

Di'kana shouted something that Lydia didn't even bother to try and understand. It was either not in the right language, or too primal for human ears to comprehend. Putting one hand on her Thane's shoulder, she turned to look back at the Companion who was still standing there, arms crossed over his breastplate. "She needs rest... it might be some time before she'll be able to return to Jorrvaskr."

"That's alright." He said, expression finally yielding to a smile. "The old man said she had fire... my fault for not taking him at his word." He paused, going on after a moment. "We're used to dealing with the injured, you know, and she is part of the family, now. Tilmo's fixed up much worse, faster than you'd expect. We could take care of her."

"It's a mead hall, not a hospital." Lydia felt her grip on Di'kana's shoulder tightening. This was _her_ Thane, her person to care for. "I've cared for her since her arrival in Whiterun. I can take care of her here."

"...Lydia..."

Eyes shifted to Di'kana, who was actually forcing herself to sit up. Blue eyes clouded with pain, she slowly brought herself to be upright and stare at the both of them. She looked to the Companion, and then locked eyes with her housecarl. She made a strange noise, caught somewhere between growling and purring, as the language of both her body and face became too closed to read. "This one will not hide from the Companions." She stated. "Di'kana will go to Jorrvaskr... if they wish to look down upon one who is still learning... then that one must fight until they must look up."

To say Lydia was surprised was an understatement. Staring at her Thane, she wasn't sure what to say. Di'kana was one proud cat; she didn't like other people seeing she was hurt, or even struggling with something. The idea of letting others see that she had been incapacitated, particularly due to her own poor decisions... it was a new measure of maturity that she hadn't been expecting to happen any time soon. Some part of her always expected Di'kana to act like a child, the very same part that liked to take care of her so very much. Still, the steely gaze this cat presented was not one that belonged to a child.

Lydia hated to say it, but Di'kana was growing out of her kittenhood... and much faster than she expected.

* * *

"... So she knows." Aela said, looking at Farkas with hard eyes. "Way to screw that up, ice-brain."

"You're telling me you could have handled that many by yourself?" Farkas bristled, openly growling as his shield-sister. "It's good we used that as a test for one of the whelps... if we'd sent one of the veterans by themselves, they would have been caught in that cage and ripped apart without a chance to fight back..."

"Cowards." Aela spat, nodding slightly at the lucky stroke. "Though I have to say, I was expecting the kitten to come back in slightly better condition..."

"She walked in and got herself to a bed under her own power." Vilkas chuckled, the three of them having a sort of impromptu meeting outside the novice quarters where Di'kana had managed herself into a bed before she allowed Tilmo to begin treating her. "Don't think I've seen anyone that hard-headed since we were pups." He said, reaching over to Farkas and ruffling his hair.

"And she _did_ retrieve the blade fragment." Farkas reminded. "All's well that ends well... even if it didn't go perfectly."

"What's the word from Kodlak?" Aela asked, eyes turning to Vilkas. "Are we keeping her?"

Vilkas nodded. "She's our sister. What's more... he wants to bring her into the circle itself."

"_What?" _Aela's surprise threatened to turn to irrational anger. "She came back partially turned to mush, and Kodlak wants her as part of the circle? I came back from my trial without a scratch, and still had to claw my way through for years before I was-"

"Did Kodlak say _why?" _Farkas asked.

Vilkas shrugged, shaking his head. "I didn't ask him to explain his reasoning. It's up to all of us, if we want to accept her in. Skjor thinks she might have it in her... but I'd like to see her back on her feet doing a a few more jobs for us before I make my judgment."

"Skjor..." Aela seemed to be musing on something, leaning her head around the corner to look into the novice quarters. Several of the other whelps were also watching Tilmo work, gawking at a much closer range as the kitten occasionally let off a sound that could not be imitated by a human throat. Skjor was among the gaggle as well, back against the far wall, seeming to study the new blood with uncanny interest. It was the look of a hunter, stalking the hunted.

Aela knew that look. Skjor thought the kitten could handle the gift. He was vouching for her so he could share it with her.

"No one toughens up proper taking it easy." Farkas said. "She'll keep up, doesn't matter what we throw at her."

"That sounding a bit admiring." Aela pointed out. "You getting to like our new pet?"

"Spend a little more time with her." Farkas chuckled. "You might get to like her too."


End file.
